


The Adventures of The Masked Lady

by GreyGhost



Series: The Dragon's Heart [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:47:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyGhost/pseuds/GreyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robbing Banks, Busting Gangs, and Outwitting the Police: Before Madame Vastra and Jenny solved crimes, they committed them...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Jenny finds employment, and Vastra rescues a bank manager from Garrotting.

March 1881 

“Stop! Thief!”

Jenny, kneeling by the coal bin, quickly looked up at the shout, ready and eager to help capture a thief if needed. But the landlady of “The Cheapside Gin Palace” was bearing down on _her ___, shaking her fist. Jenny sighed, disappointed, then simply stood and waited; a half-full coal bucket and full water bucket beside her. When the woman was close, she dropped a small, clumsy curtsey and calmly said, “Good morning, Mrs Brown.”

That brought the woman up short. “Who are you? Put that coal back, you thief!”

“I’m Jenny, ma’am. I’m staying with Miss Vastra. You’ve seen me before; I’ve been here over two weeks now.”

“I have? You are? I don’t remember any of this!”

Jenny didn’t reply to that; Mrs Brown was sober at the moment, but often she was so soused by noon that it was a wonder that she remembered her own name. However, she always remembered to collect the rent, and how much to charge for gin. Jenny shook her head at the strange quirks of some adults.

“I’m just fetching water and Miss Vastra’s coal for the day.”

Mrs Brown eyed the girl in front of her. Now that she thought about it, the youngster did look familiar. “I’ve seen you! You were washing laundry a few days ago.”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s right.”

“Doing the laundry, fetching the water and coal… What are you then, Miss Vastra’s maid?” Mrs Brown half-laughed, half sneered, “She’s decided to give herself airs, has she, for all she lives in a garret? She’ll be giving herself a fancy title next!”

“Maid’s as good a name as any, and at least it’s honest work.” Jenny bent back to the coal bin, and finished filling the bucket.

“Can’t be much for you to do. That flat’s not very big.”

“It’s not, and now that I have it cleaned up, it’ll be easy to keep it clean.”

“Harrumph,” said Mrs Brown, as Jenny picked up her buckets and started up the stairs, “Idle hands are the devil’s playground. Miss Vastra won’t want to pay you much for that!”

Jenny didn’t mention that Vastra was allowing her to stay while Jenny hid from her father and the members of a Chinese criminal gang called the Black Scorpion Tong. The chores were Jenny’s way of trying to repay Vastra for her kindness, and for the lessons on self-defence and blade work that Vastra taught her every day.

Mrs Brown followed Jenny up the long flights of stairs, grumbling away about various tenants, the price of coal, and the foolishness of hiring young girls to clean small rooms. Of course, Jenny thought, it would never occur to the woman to actually help carry the buckets. Just as well that Jenny was still working on getting stronger; carrying the heavy coal and water was a good start.

They arrived at Vastra’s flat, and Jenny knocked three times on the door and waited. Miss Vastra wasn’t wearing her cloak when Jenny left, and she hoped that by knocking the woman would put it on before answering the door.

A moment later, the door swung open, and Jenny entered, buckets in hand and Mrs Brown at her heels. Jenny glimpsed Vastra’s cloaked form by the door as she entered, and sighed in relief.

“She followed me home; we don't have to keep her, do we?” muttered Jenny to Vastra, glancing back at the Landlady. Vastra smirked slightly, and drew the hood of her cloak a little further forward.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Mrs Brown?” Vastra asked at her most regal, “Surely the rent isn’t due for another three days?”

Mrs Brown wasn’t looking at Vastra though. She was staring around the flat. Vastra wasn’t surprised; Mrs Brown had last been in the room the day after Vastra had rescued Jenny, and the room had been filthy. In the intervening time, Jenny had scrubbed the flat thoroughly, making sure that the floors, bedding, window and hearth were as clean as possible. Vastra had to admit the place was much more liveable now.

“Ha! You weren’t bamming me, eh? You really are the maid!” said Mrs Brown, looking around with something like admiration in her eyes. “Never seen a flat in this place look better!”

Vastra glanced over at Jenny, who shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Jenny has been a great help, Mrs Brown.”

“Alright, then. I believe you. Don’t think you’ll have much work though, you’ll be bored and gone soon.” Mrs Brown said to Jenny, and then swept out the door. Vastra closed it behind her, dropped the hood of her cloak, and looked over at Jenny with an inquiring cock of her head.

“Maid?”

“She’s seen me doing the laundry and fetching the water and coal. She took it into her head I’m your maid.” Jenny dropped a deep, though still clumsy, curtsey to Vastra. “I decided not to correct her, ma’am, if it keeps her from asking too many questions.”

“Very wise. Although you may need to tell Mrs Brown the same thing every day for the next year, as I doubt she will remember.”

***

Except Mrs Brown did remember, both Jenny herself, and how clean Vastra's room was now. The next week one of the barmaids needed to leave to see to her sick father and the young weekend cleaner was asked to fill in for her. A new cleaner was needed, and Jenny’s name came up. Mrs Brown arranged for Jenny to clean the Gin Palace on Friday, Saturday and Sunday mornings, while the bar was closed. Thursday, Friday and Saturday were the busy nights in the bar, and the place was always filthy the next day.

Vastra helped with the negotiations, refusing to ‘release’ Jenny for the work ‘unless she was properly paid for Jenny’s time.’ As a result, Jenny earned two shillings, half the price of a bottle of gin, each morning. That gave her six shillings a week; roughly fifteen pounds a year, a decent wage, especially for a twelve year old girl, in a time were a junior maid might make less than twenty pounds a year. Mrs Brown grumbled about ‘blackmail’ but was quietly delighted; the child worked hard, did a first-rate job, and best of all, never drank the bar stock.

Vastra, of course, was concerned about how Jenny would feel about working at a place that sold gin, given that her father had essentially sold her in order to continue drinking.

“Can’t be helped, ma’am,” Jenny replied when Vastra asked, “The little bit o’Ma’s money that I found will run out soon. I need to eat, and while the pigeons are free meat we still need bread to catch them with. And it’s nice to have some vegetables for a stew, and some fresh bread to go with it. And you should be putting some money towards the rent.” Jenny’s wages, of course, where paid to Vastra, as Jenny’s ‘mistress’ and guardian, on the assumption that Jenny worked for Vastra. Since that was the same system that had occurred at the match factory, with Jenny’s wages being paid to her parents, Jenny saw nothing strange about the arrangement.

Vastra shook her head. “I’d be paying the rent whether you were here or not. And I would not have thought to use bread to attract the pigeons, so I’d most likely be snacking on mice.” Or humans, she thought, but didn’t mention. It hadn’t come up in the last few weeks, and Vastra was rather hesitant to broach the subject. How does one explain that one occasionally eats members of your pet’s species, anyway?

“Still,” said Jenny, “as the saying goes, ‘fish and houseguests start to stink after three days.’ You’ve been patience itself to put up with me for so long.”

Vastra glanced around her now trim little flat, and back to where Jenny was working on mending a popped button on one of Vastra’s shirts. “It is not an imposition, believe me.”

***

Jenny’s new job helped to focus Vastra’s thoughts on her own circumstances. It was rather embarrassing that while she had her savings, their only income was from her young pet’s work. She knew that she didn’t want to return to what could be politely termed ‘performing for an audience,’ with Jago’s ‘Monstre Gathering’ or less politely called ‘being a sideshow freak.’ That she’d refused the suggestion to catch bullets with her tongue as part of revamping and expanding her act had been career, as opposed to potentially actual, suicide. That, and making a midnight snack of a rather frail and elderly lion that she’d put out of its misery, had pretty much ended her career on the stage.

Vastra also knew that she wanted a more meaningful, more productive and more comfortable life than living in a one-room flat above a gin hall, even if Jenny had worked a miracle improving the place. Meaningful and productive she could mull over and she had a few thoughts on how to achieve those goals; but more comfortable, in Ape society, meant having more money. And Vastra simply didn’t understand the accumulation of money very well. Her people had long ago abandoned such childish games.

Vastra was also troubled by the fact that she still had not developed a viable strategy to deal with Jenny’s problem with the Scorpions. A sensible person might have pointed out that several weeks was not an unreasonable amount of time to sort out a way to deal with a group that had plagued the London and Metropolitan Police forces for a number of years, but since Vastra’s preferred solution involved swords, bloodshed and a really good feast, she did not consider that a great deal of preparation should be needed. However, Jenny had pointed out during their visit to her former home that Vastra really couldn’t tell the heroes (such as Jenny’s friend Tom) from the villains, and Vastra admitted (to herself at least) that “kill them all” was not a sound approach if Jenny was to have any chance of ever returning to her neighbourhood.

In the meantime, Vastra began to find herself downstairs, basking or reading in the little enclosed Area at the rear by the water pump while Jenny was cleaning the gin palace. Occasionally Jenny took advantage of this to ask for a few minutes of help with heavy objects, or if she couldn’t reach certain high places while cleaning. Vastra was surprised on Jenny’s second Sunday morning on the job, when she helped retrieve two different shoes from the plate rail by the ceiling; and both a lady’s handkerchief and what Jenny identified as a pair of gentlemen’s sock garters from various lighting fixtures. Vastra felt better if she could hear Jenny bustling around inside, as she didn't really trust the local Apes to leave the girl alone. The idea that she rather liked Jenny’s company, and felt more relaxed when the hatchling was nearby, never really occurred to her.

***

The following Friday morning, Vastra was reading Jenny’s copybook in the Area, simply because she hadn’t memorized it yet, and Jenny was hard at work cleaning up the Gin Palace.

Suddenly, she heard Jenny calling, “Help! Murder! Thief!” and Vastra tossed the copybook aside and ran into the building.

Jenny was at the front window, cleaning rags scattered on the nearby tables. Vastra could hear a commotion in the street outside. She looked out, and saw a middle-aged Ape being attacked. The robber had wrapped a rope around the Ape’s neck, and was choking it. From the corner of her eye, Vastra saw Jenny behind her, grabbing a stout-handled broom that she’d left nearby, and Vastra knew she’d seen the attack, called for Vastra, and that Vastra had better move quickly, or Jenny would dive into the fight by herself! Vastra ran for the front door, grabbing a forgotten umbrella. She charged outside and hit the thug on the back of the head with the handle of the umbrella.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done,” thought Vastra. Her people had no ‘forms’ for fighting with a device made of metal and cloth. Past the thief she could see the other Apes in the street standing, staring and being extremely useless.

The thief turned, and Vastra hit it again with an uppercut to the throat with the handle, then reversed the umbrella and aimed the tip for the thief’s eye. It dodged, but stumbled as Vastra reversed the umbrella again and tripped the thief up with the handle.

From the corner of her vision, Vastra saw a younger human, possibly male, with a set of large books under one arm, and a knife in its hand. Obviously an accomplice, she thought. However, brandishing the knife was an unwise move, as a moment later it was dashed from the young ape’s hand by Jenny’s broom handle. Jenny then thrust the end of the broom handle hard into the ape’s stomach. It gasped and doubled over, winded. Jenny dealt it another smart blow to the arm, knocking the books away. As Vastra turned towards them, Jenny stepped over the books, brandished the broom in a stance Vastra had shown her, grinned wildly at the ape and chortled, “I suggest you run, dear.”

The young Ape took one look at the large cloaked form starting towards him, and took to its heels, still doubled over and followed closely by the first robber who was staggering and trying to keep on his feet. Vastra watched them go, as Jenny crossed to the fallen victim. Once the pair were out of sight, Vastra gathered the book and the young ape’s knife, and joined the others, remarking to Jenny; “You can be a very intimidating little monkey when you choose to be.”

Jenny was examining the victim’s throat carefully in that gentle way that Vastra had felt when Jenny looked over Vastra’s own wounds weeks before. “Some rope burn there sir,” Jenny said, “can you swallow?”

‘Ah,’ thought Vastra, ‘Thank-you Jenny. I’m fairly sure that ‘Sir’ means it’s a male.’

The man made a painful swallow, then nodded. “Think we got out here in good time, then,” continued Jenny.

“Can he be moved?” asked Vastra, “We should take him back to the Gin Palace, and not leave him here in the street.”

Jenny glanced up and around; now that the excitement was done, the few people in the street were hurrying about their business. “You know I’m not a doctor, right?” she asked. “He’s starting to catch his breath, and his throat’s not crushed, but he’s going to be right sore for a bit. But if we help him, he should be able to walk in a minute or two.”

“Of course you’re not the Doctor,” muttered Vastra to herself, “You’re far too young, and have far more sense!” Jenny didn't hear her, and would not have understood the comment even if she had. 

Vastra handed Jenny the contents of her arms, then reached down and hauled the Ape, or rather the man, to his feet. He looked very surprised, but Jenny just shook her head, and said, “He’s not a sack o’ potatoes, ma’am! Sorry about that sir; she don’t remember her own strength when her blood’s up.”

Jenny led the way into the Gin Palace. Vastra sat the man down while Jenny went and asked Mrs Brown for something for him to drink. Mrs Brown bustled out (sober again for a change, to the surprise of both Jenny and Vastra) and upon seeing the quality of the man’s clothes, poured him a half-pint of bitter and welcomed him to her establishment before bustling out again to her tiny office. Jenny gathered up her cloths and returned to her work cleaning up the room. Vastra, still concealed within her cloak, sat with the man, and watched as he sipped his drink. “That’s rather good!” he said. Vastra made a mental note to try this drink sometime instead of her usual gin.

The man wasn't very tall, a bit plump without being fat, slightly balding with a quantity of fur under its nose and mouth. Smells fairly clean for an Ape, he would probably be a reasonably tasty meal, Vastra decided.

The man smiled at her and said, “Madame, I am in your debt, as well that of your young friend. I am James Thackeray. I work at the Bank of England as a Manager.”

“You are welcome, James Thackeray. My name is Vastra, and that is Jenny. She saw you being attacked and called for help.”

“Thank you, Miss Jenny!” he called. Jenny waved in reply from where she was working.

“Those villains were after the ledgers that you rescued. I’m not sure why. I was simply asked to pick them up from the Sherwin and Sommes Bank on Paternoster Row. Since it was a nice day, I walked over as it isn’t very far.”

“Wouldn’t a messenger usually do that?” asked Jenny, who having finished wiping down the gin bottles was polishing the beer pulls. “A boy who wants to earn an extra coin or two?”

“Yes, but Mr Dawes, one of the Banks’ directors, asked me to see to it personally. I gather that there was some importance to the errand.”

“Well, apparently your assailants agreed; they seemed less interested in your wallet than in the ledgers.” observed Vastra.

Jenny watched Mr Thackeray and Miss Vastra out of the corner of her eye. It quickly dawned on her that Mr Thackeray was intrigued by Miss Vastra, probably by the contrast of her cultured voice and hidden face. Jenny found the idea rather sweet, but felt a need to protect Vastra, who could be rather oblivious to humans sometimes. Miss Vastra, Jenny realized, was more interested in the puzzle of the ledgers and the attack than in Mr Thackeray’s attentions.

When Jenny was finished, she put away her cleaning supplies, and joined the adults. She looked Mr Thackeray over as she did so, and decided he was reasonably recovered. It was probably time for him to return to work.

“It’s a nice day, if a bit breezy,” said Jenny, “ Maybe we should take a walk, ma’am. Just to keep Mr Thackeray company back to the bank, as he’s had a shock to his system. You remember ma’am, how I was when I went into shock. Bad chills, and almost passed out on my feet, I did.”

“Jenny is correct, Mr Thackeray. We’d both feel better if we knew you were safely returned to your bank with others around you.”

Mr Thackeray tried to protest, but Jenny leaned over and whispered to him. “Help me out here, sir. She doesn’t get out as much as she should, and it would be a kindness to have a good reason for her to be out and about.” Jenny knew it was a whopper of a tale, but it gave the gent an easy reason to agree without feeling he was being coddled by a woman and a girl.

Vastra was amused; Jenny was taking full advantage of her youth to get the Ape to accept an escort and convince him that he was doing _them ___a favour. She'd have to keep an eye on her clever young pet. The hatchling was going to be a handful of mischief at this rate.

***

After the bar was inspected and approved by Mrs Brown, Jenny collected her own coat, and the trio set off. A short stroll, less than ten minutes, found them outside the massive entrance to the bank on Threadneedle Street.

“Cor, look at that!” exclaimed Jenny, impressed with the columns and statues. “The Bank of England, eh? Don’t know much about banks; I know they’re where money is kept, and rich people like them, but not more than that.”

“I must admit, I have never been in a bank either,” said Vastra.

“But this is splendid! Please, you both must visit the bank next week! Just give me a few days to set up a first rate visit for you. Come and tour in the morning, and then let me buy you lunch! Please let me give you that as a reward for your help today.”

“Please may we go, ma’am? It sounds like it would be a lot of fun!”

Vastra wasn’t sure if Jenny was more interested in seeing the bank or in the chance for a good meal that she didn’t need to pluck, clean and cook first, but she could not find it in herself to deny her pet the treat.

They agreed that Mr Thackeray would make arrangements for the middle of the next week, so he could secure the proper permissions, and that he would send a note over to The Gin Palace. And with another round of thanks from Mr Thackeray, they saw him into the bank, and made their way home.

***

As they walked back to the flat, Vastra asked, "Why was Mr Thackeray addressing me as Madame?"

“Well,” said Jenny, “as I recall, Ma explained it like this: ‘Miss’ is used to address unmarried women. It’s used as long as a woman remains unmarried, but lots of older women who never married don’t like it. Seems disrespectful like. Makes them sound like children. ‘Missus’ is used for married women, all ages, from very young to an old widow. ‘Madame’ is a foreign term I think, it’s used for married women too. Sometimes in English it’s used for women who aren’t young if you’re not sure if they’re married or not, and you want to be polite.”

“So when Mr Thackeray referred to me as ‘Madame’ it was because while he was sure I wasn't young, he wasn’t sure if I was married?”

“Right. Well, he probably wasn't sure if you were young or not either, ‘cause you always have the hood of your cloak up, and he can’t see your face.”

“Usually Apes distrust me for that, yet he was quite polite. Most Apes, I mean humans, are not.”

“You’d just rescued him from being strangled, and he saw that I know you and weren't put off by you. I think that made him feel better.”

Vastra nodded, that made sense. “So you,” she returned to the original discussion, “being young, would be addressed as “Miss Jenny?”

“Sometimes, yes. You heard Mr Thackeray use that. But for people of my sort, poor people I mean, it’s often not used much. Not a lot of respect for us, you see.”

“Yes, I’ve observed that. Yet you yourself are worthy of respect as you are both hard-working and clever. And I’ve heard the other word as well: so Mrs Brown is a married woman, correct?”  
Jenny was surprised at Vastra’s off-hand remark. She blinked, then collected herself and answered the question: “Yes, or a widow. A married woman whose husband has died.”

“That makes sense. So… ‘Madame’… hmmm… ‘Madame Vastra.’ I think it sounds rather well. What do you think?”

“I like it. Sounds exotic. Fits you."

“Very well, I am now a Madame.”

Jenny tried not to choke with laughter, she’d need to explain that Madame should be used with a name, otherwise Vastra had just named herself a brothel keeper in street slang.

They arrived back at the flat, and Jenny collected Vastra's cloaked and her own coat, and hung them on the pegs by the door. Vastra continued, “I do have one more question.”

Jenny looked up, ready to answer. Vastra continued, “What do you mean by ‘A Married Woman?’ ”

Jenny just put her head in her hands. It was going to be a long evening.

***

Monday dawned sunny and warm, and Jenny declared it laundry day again. “If we’re off to the Bank this week, I’ve work to do! Choose your nicest clothes, Ma’am and I’ll make sure they’re clean. Wonder if Mrs B has an iron I can borrow to press things. And give me your shoes so I can polish them up. ”

“Certainly, but isn’t this a great deal of work for you?”

“Ma'am, we can’t show up at the Bank of England in our usual things! They’ll think we’re there to rob them! Only our best clothes will do!”

“What can I do to help?”

Jenny stopped and regarded Vastra for a long moment. “You won’t be able to wear your cloak and hood. You’ll need… something to hide your face, but still look respectable like. Maybe… a scarf? No, that will still look strange.”

“I suppose the shawl trick we used on the Scorpions would not work either. That was fine when we both had our heads down, but we’ll want to look around.” Vastra sighed, “Perhaps it would be best if I simply walked you to the Bank, and let you tour by yourself.”

“Don’t give up so quick. Let’s think about this for a bit. I’ll get everything else ready in the meantime.”

***

While Jenny worked, Vastra went out, dressed in her cloak, and found a quiet place to watch the Apes pass by on Cheapside. Despite the name, the street drew a wide slice of the local inhabitants. While Vastra had spent several years among the Apes, she had been, until recently, only a superficial observer of the species. That had changed when Jenny started to encouraged Vastra to get out of her flat a bit.

As Vastra observed the street scene, looking for ways to disguise her features, she realized that while she could distinguish different clothes among the Apes, she really could not tell what they meant. One Ape went by, and its mouth and nose were covered, but it was carrying a sack that smelled foul, and Vastra noticed that the other Apes avoided it. A pair went by arm in arm, one wearing a dress, the other in trousers. A second pair, headed the other way, also one in a dress, the other in trousers but walking behind and carrying parcels. At another point, she heard a number of bells nearby, and then a few minutes later there were Apes everywhere in trousers and dresses, some wearing coats, others without, some bustling down the street, others walking more slowly. Sometime later, Vastra estimated it to be the interval the Apes called an hour, she heard a smaller number of bells, and many of those in the street rapidly disappeared. Vastra watched a bit longer, then returned to her flat. She resolved to bring Jenny with her later in the week, as she might be able to explain what Vastra was seeing. Or at least make some reasonable guesses, which Vastra could then follow up on.

***

Vastra found Jenny on the roof, polishing their shoes with some blackening and keeping one eye on the drying laundry. Vastra related her observations, and concluded with:

“I have noticed that most ap... ah, humans wear hats. Would a hat help? Although it wouldn’t cover my face.”

“A hat would cover the pointy bits, though.”

“My crests? Yes, that’s a start.”

“You need a mask. Or something you can see through.”

Both sat and thought for a bit. Finally Vaster said, “Months ago, I saw an Ape… a person wearing something on their head with… translucent material in front of it. It had small holes, like a…net? It was white, I remember that.”

“Maybe a bride wearing a veil? That might work. We’d need a darker colour.” Jenny nodded, happy with the idea. “I could buy a bit of netting to go with a hat from a rag picker. We could rig something up for you.”

“A veil?”

"Brides wear them to hide their face from their husband before they’re married. And ladies wear them sometimes when it's windy or really sunny. Keeps the dust and sun off their faces. Usually it's part of the hat. Might look strange being inside, but it would be better than wearing your hood up all the time. You'd look... respectable like. It would go along with your new name, Madame Vastra." Jenny grinned, the name really did suit her tall steely protector.

"Is that important?"

"Couldn't hurt. Might even help. You've got a good manner of speaking, not like me. You sound like a lady. Things would be easier for you if people believe that."

"Easier?"

"Yes. If most people think you're a respectable woman, they're not likely to think you're dangerous; not human or an animal."

"I'm certainly not an animal!"

"But ma'am, you don't look like a regular person." Jenny cocked her head, and shrewdly continued. "You call me and other people Apes all the time. As if you get confused as to whether we're people or animals."

Vastra decided to hedge, she wasn't sure Jenny would be pleased if Vastra pointed out that to her, Jenny _was_ an animal, albeit a clever one. "Well, I suppose I do sometimes."

Jenny nodded and continued: "What's the difference between how your people treat a person or an animal?"

"We treat animals as pets, as useful, as food or we hunt them as vermin," replied Vastra.

Jenny leaned in, and locked eyes with Vastra. "So do we, ma'am. So do we. So you and I, we both want my kind to think you're a person. Not an animal. Right?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

"No ma'am. Humans are funny that way. Many don't think others humans are people. Watch how the poor are treated sometime. Or most women. Or people with different coloured skin. Lots of people who should know better treat their pets more kindly than they treat people who are different."

"That makes no sense."

"Not to you nor me, ma'am. But that's the way a lot of people think. So you, we want them to think you're a person. Better yet if they think you're a respectable, genteel person."

Jenny grinned suddenly, "The sort of person who might have some money in a bank! So we'll go off and see Mr Thackeray this week, and see what we can learn."

Vastra shook her head, amused. She was still half convinced Jenny was only interested in the promise of lunch.


	2. Vastra and Jenny visit the Bank of England, and investigate the finances of the Black Scorpions.

March - April 1881

On Wednesday morning, pressed and dressed as neatly as possible, Madame Vastra and Jenny entered the front gate of the Bank of England. Jenny thought she’d done a fair job at finding a proper hat and netting that was a close match to Vastra’s cloak and then sorting out how to get it to stay on Vastra's head without benefit of hairpins.

An elderly, red-coated porter greeted them, and directed them to Mr Thackeray. They crossed a small court-yard, mounted a few steps and found themselves in a large hall: at least a hundred bank-clerks and customers were there. Men, women, and boys were present, some walking arm in arm as if they were in a park. Jenny spotted Mr Thackeray (Vastra was still mystified at how easily Jenny could tell Apes apart,) and guided Vastra over to him. 

"Hello, Mr Thackeray," Jenny greeted him, "Madame Vastra and me are glad to see you looking better." Jenny saw the man give a small sigh of relief; she'd answered the riddle of how to address Vastra. He greeted them happily, obviously proud of his bank, and eager to show it off to his new friends. 

Mr Thackeray led them around the room, and they watched people exchanging money, giving it to the clerks, and the clerks fetching it from or delivering it to a nearby vault. It was as if all these people had stepped into a neighbourhood shop specializing in money. In long rows along the walls, the bank clerks sat writing, adding up accounts, weighing gold, and paying it away over the counter. In front of each was a bar of dark mahogany, a little table, a pair of scales, and a line of people waiting for their turn. The business flowed smoothly, and no one was kept waiting for any length of time. Mr Thackeray took a moment to show Vastra and Jenny the books the clerks were writing in, which he called ‘Day Books’ and to point out the small books the customers carried, which he called ‘pass books’ as they were ‘passed’ between the clerks and the customers to be updated. Each passbook contained a record of the client’s transactions with the bank. Mr Thackeray explained that each afternoon, when the bank closed, the day books would be read out, and the transactions entered into the Bank’s official ledgers; great bound books that recorded all the clients, and all the transactions for every client.

“I’ve secured special permission from one of the Bank’s directors, Mr Dawes,” continued Mr Thackeray. “I’d like to show you some areas that most people never see. I hope you will find them interesting.” He led Vastra and Jenny down a set of winding stairs, to a large door. He knocked, and then led them inside to where a balding older man in a dress coat sat behind a small desk.

“This gentleman is the librarian of the Bank,” said Mr Thackeray.

The man in the black dress-coat opened a door in the railing, and bade them enter. He showed them an enormous number of parcels and bundles of notes, ranged along the walls up to the very ceiling. He explained that the library of the Bank was a room that stored notes that had been paid in at the Bank. They were valueless; the Bank never issued the same note twice. They were kept and locked up in the library, for many years, in order to be produced in the case of a theft or forgery. Afterwards a set number of years they were burnt. Most of the notes were payable “to the bearer” and included a number. Jenny asked what a bearer was, and Mr. Thackeray explained it was the person who bore, or possessed, the note. The banks would record who was issued the note, or who had deposited it, but the notes could be freely given and used by anyone. He showed Jenny and Madame Vastra some specimens worth five and ten pounds each. They were simple pieces, printed on one side only. 

Every now and then clerks came in with fresh bundles of the notes. A few minutes ago these papers were worth who knows how much money. “They are now mere waste paper,” explained Mr Thackeray. “Many notes lead long and honourable lives; they go to the Continent, to India, or Port Adelaide; and return to the Bank much the worse for wear after all their journeys. Other notes have scarcely a day in the world; to-day they are issued, and to-morrow they are paid in for deposit or exchanged for gold.”

***

Next Vastra and Jenny followed Mr Thackeray into the guard-room, where a detachment of soldiers from the Tower passed every the night, to protect the Bank “in case of an emergency.” 

They then went to the Bullion Office, a subterranean vault, where the Bank kept gold and silver bars from Australia, California, Russia, Peru, and Mexico; here they weighed them, purchased them, and then the Bank sent them to the Mint, just east of the Tower of London, to be re-coined. Jenny asked if any of the bank staff had ever been accidentally locked in the vault at night, as it looked as if someone could get lost in here very easily. Mr Thackeray said it had only happened once that he knew of. Vastra gave the inside of the doors a knowing glance; they were primitive, and seemed designed to keep people out more than keep them in. “Did the man unlock the vault door, and re-lock it behind him?” she asked. 

Mr Thackeray blinked, startled. “Well, yes, actually. However, it still took him a fair amount of time to get the door unlocked.” Vastra simply nodded, and filed the information away.

Mr Thackeray then led them through several passages and knocked at a large door, which opened from the inside. Two gentlemen, in black dress coats and white cravats, stood in a large room. The walls were covered with iron lock-ups and safes. This, he explained, was the Treasury of the Bank, where they keep the new notes and coins. Mr Thackeray picked up a small gold coin, and showed it to Jenny. “You know what this is, right?” 

“It’s a sovereign, sir” said Jenny, on her best behaviour. “It’s worth one pound sterling.” ‘Just over 3 week’s wages for me,’ she thought.

Mr Thackeray nodded, clearly pleased, and then passed a slip of paper to one of the gentlemen. The man looked at Mr Thackeray’s order, and, with gentle dignity, he turned and opened one of the iron safes. It was filled with bags. He took two of them and put them into Jenny and Vastra’s hands, and explained that the bags contained 500 or 1000 sovereigns each. Jenny stared at the one in her hands, and murmured, “Five hundred pounds! I’ll never see that again in my entire life!” 

Mr Thackeray looked at her, and said, “Miss Jenny, you must not think like that. You’re a brave and bright young girl. If you apply yourself, I believe you can someday see five hundred pounds again.” 

And at that moment, Vastra decided that Jenny would, at least, have the opportunity to supervise a household where five hundred pounds was a commonplace sum. She had no idea how to go about it, or if Jenny would even be interested in doing so, but the girl was still young, so she had time to plan something out.

“Or perhaps you’ll marry well!” continued Mr. Thackeray. Jenny managed not to roll her eyes. What sort of rich toff would ever marry a cockney maid? It only happened in stories.

The other gentleman then took a bunch of keys, and opened a large closet filled with notes. The most valuable and smallest bundle was put into Jenny’s hands. “You have there,” said he, “two thousand notes of one thousand pounds each.” 

Jenny frowned a moment, doing sums in her head. “Two million pounds sterling!” She exclaimed. Vastra agreed, surely it was an enormous sum to hold in one’s hand. She wasn’t sure she could ever match that. Both of them missed Mr Thackeray’s look of surprise at Jenny’s speed at doing the sum. He knew it was a simple calculation, just counting the zeroes, but still… Jenny took a deep breath, and returned the notes to their keeper, almost glad to be beyond temptation. They left the Treasury, without being any richer. Of course, they were not allowed to carry off its contents. But both Vastra and Jenny certainly had food for thought. 

Finally they entered another large room, with a neat, pretty steam-engine in it, and with a variety of other small machines whose complicated wheels were kept in motion by the engine. The largest object in the room was a large table, literally covered with mountains of sovereigns. A few officials, with shovels in their hands, were stirring the immense glittering mass. 

“Here they weigh the sovereigns,” whispered Mr Thackeray. Besides a mysterious system of wheels within wheels, each of machines had an open square box, and in this box, two segments of cylinders, with the open part turned upwards. A roll of sovereigns was placed into one of these tubes, and it passed slowly down, one gold piece after the other dropping into a large box on the floor. 

The clerks filled the tubes. The sovereigns slid down, but just at the lower end of the tube, whenever a sovereign of less than full weight touched that point, a small brass plate pushed the defaulter into the left-hand compartment of the box, while all the good pieces went to the right. 

One of the clerks explained, “The Bank selects the full weighted sovereigns from the light ones, because all the money we pay out must have its full weight.” 

“And what do you do with the light ones?” Vastra asked.

“We send them to the Mint after we’ve marked them. Shall I show you how we do it?”

He took a handful of the condemned coins, and put them into a box, which looked like a small barrel-organ. He turned a screw and there was a rushing noise in the interior of the box, and all the sovereigns fall out from a slit at the bottom. But they were cut through in the middle. The Victorias, and Williams, and Georges, all cut through their necks, in fact, beheaded! 

Mr Thackeray smiled slightly, “That‘s what the we call ‘marking a bad sovereign.’” 

***  
Their last stop at the bank was the office of Mr Dawes, the director who had authorized their tour. The thin, white haired man looked up when they entered, sat back with steepled fingers and regarded them shrewdly, if politely.

“So you the woman who saved my manager, and the young gel who saved the ledgers in his care, eh? It was quite a surprise when Thackeray told me of his rescue. Especially since none of the men in the street were brave enough to help.”

The pair glanced at each other, and to Mr Dawes surprise, it was the young girl who replied:

“Well, Madame Vastra helped me out of a fix a few weeks ago, Sir. Thought I'd pass on the favour. Couldn’t let the gentleman be strangled in front of me without doing something, now could I?”

“And since Jenny was wise enough to call out before she dove into the situation, I thought it best to help before she managed to get herself killed,” added Madame Vastra. Dawes caught the slight head-cock as the woman turned to regard the girl despite the veil she wore, and from that and her tone of voice, he could well imagine a look of fond exasperation bestowed on the youngster. Interesting pair, he thought. The girl was pure cockney, probably a poor labourer’s child or orphan if she was so ready to fight, while the woman had a cultured voice with a slight accent. Unlikely that they were simply neighbours or friends; Employer and employee? Probably mistress and maid most likely, he decided, as the child used the woman’s title. He judged the girl to be twelve or thirteen, a sensible age to begin in service as a scullery or laundry maid. 

“And the two of you managed to beat a pair of London street toughs,” observed Dawes.

“They were not very competent, and we caught them by surprise…” said Madame Vastra. ‘And I have years of experience as warrior and hunter and Jenny’s proving to be a very quick study in the art of self-defence,’ she added to herself. 

“Sir, what was in those books that the toughs wanted?” Jenny asked.

Mr Dawes eyed her for a long moment. It was both a reasonable and impertinent question. But since the pair had risked their safety for Thackeray, he owed them a civil answer: “The Manager at Sherwin and Somes Bank asked me to look over these ledgers and daybooks.” He waved at the stack on his desk. “There are some entries that he felt would benefit from being reviewed by an experienced eye.” There were, in fact, some entries that were damned disturbing. No point in troubling the ladies with that information though. “They may simply have wanted information on which clients to rob.” Or they might have been paid to snatch the books. From what he had seen, Dawes could well believe that explanation as well.

Mr Dawes regarded the pair gravely for a long moment. “I will ask though that if you see either of those toughs near where you work or live, you send a message to Thackeray or me immediately. I’m worried that you may have drawn the attention of some true scoundrels, and I don’t want to see you hurt as a result of your bravery.”

When both the ladies nodded, he relaxed a bit. Some of these modern women would take offence at being protected, but these two clearly knew their limitations. Luck had been with them when they’d rescued Thackeray, but luck such as that could not hold for long.

Mr Dawes glanced over their clothes, and saw far more than most women would be comfortable with. The pair before him were, if not flat broke, then certainly not very well off. Their clothes, though clean and pressed, were worn and patched, and Madame Vastra had an odd combination of hat and cloak and dress. He had no idea how she could see through the thick layers of veil; he couldn’t see a hint of the woman’s face. But they’d obviously tried, and Dawes didn’t mention the slight trace of boot blacking he could see on young Jenny’s hand. They’d asked for no financial remuneration, though Thackeray had mentioned he was going to buy them lunch. Dawes was wealthy in his own right, but he was the third son himself of an improvished country squire, and understood that life sometimes depended on the friends one made. So it was time, as the girl Jenny had said, to ‘pass on the favour.’

“Miss Jenny, this is for you, for raising the alarm, bringing Madame Vastra to the fight, and being brave and pitching in yourself,” said Dawes, taking her hand and closing it around a gold sovereign. “Don’t spend it if you can help it. Keep it safe. Someday it may help you, as you helped Mr Thackeray.” 

“Thank you both again. Good luck to you, and may we meet again.”

***

As promised, Mr Thackeray took them to lunch. Earlier, Jenny was able to suggest that Madame Vastra would love some nice rare roast beef, (she thought ‘raw’ might be a bit much to ask for) and Mr Thackeray knew a perfect spot nearby. He sent a bank messenger to arrange things and the three of them were soon seated in ‘Old Edwards’, in a snug little room away from the noise and cigar smoke in the main restaurant. Jenny had a nice meal, although she had to keep watching Mr Thackeray to see how he held his fork. Her knife, of course, Jenny had no trouble with. Even Madame Vastra enjoyed the meal, as the roast beef was very good, even if it was cooked, and the accompanying peas and mashed potatoes, while very different from what she was used to, she could at least eat in small amounts. 

While Madame Vastra did not remove her veil to eat, Jenny had fun distracting Mr Thackeray at the critical moment, just as Vastra moved her veil slightly aside for each bite. It took the man a bit longer than it should have to catch on to the game, but Vastra decided to be charitable and assume the man was humouring Jenny. Eventually he simply acquiesced to the unspoken request to respect Vastra’s privacy, and the three of them enjoyed a very pleasant lunch. 

After the meal, they bid Mr Thackeray a polite goodbye. Vastra, still very at sea over Ape courtesy, simply started to turn to leave, but Jenny caught Vastra’s arm to stop her, and then said “Thank-you” properly for both of them. 

***

“Are we going to send a note if we see the bully-boys again?” asked Jenny as they walked back to the flat. “Didn’t want to upset the old gent by saying no.”

“Yes, I think that would be wise,” said Vastra. “Not for our protection, but because there seems to be a mystery here, and I’d like to know what is going on. That is a reasonable way to stay in touch.”

“Know you can keep us out of trouble, ma’am. I’m more worried about who’s protecting Mr Thackeray!”

A hum of agreement was Vastra’s only reply. Jenny glanced over and saw the woman was deep in thought.

Vastra had found out about Banks. And that’s when the trouble started…

***

That evening, after she cleared away the supper dishes, Jenny took the stairs to the roof for her daily training. Madame Vastra was already there, pacing, grumbling and swearing when Jenny arrived from. 

“Not late, am I?” Jenny asked, seeing Vastra in a high temper and a foul mood. ‘She’s on a right tear tonight,’ thought Jenny, ‘better talk it out with her before she decides to take it out on me.' 

Not that Vastra had ever hit her, except during training, and even that was usually by accident. For that matter, after the first day of training, Vastra hadn't lost her temper with Jenny, and Jenny had taken care not to give her a reason to do so. It was a strange little truce that they'd worked out. Vastra’d not been so angry recently, and Jenny had hoped that the quiet would last longer. No such luck, though.

“No, no, you’re fine,” growled Vastra. “I was just thinking about that bank! It is absolutely infuriating that all that money is just sitting around, not being useful, while you work so hard for less than one of those little gold coins! I am determined: between the two of us we can do better than 6 shillings a week! Who has all that money, anyway? Where does it come from?”

Jenny shrugged. “The Crown and the Government get it from taxes. The gentry inherited it. Companies like the railways and the East India Company, the merchants and landlords charge what they like, and people either pay it or go without. As the saying goes: them that has the gold, makes the rules.” 

“Knowing the lack of morals of Apes, many of those are probably as corrupt and criminal as the Scorpions,” growled Vastra. Jenny wanted to protest, but decided to let Vastra rant instead. Safer for her that way.

Vastra paced back and forth some more, grumbling, but then saw Jenny staring off into space and frowning. “What is it?” snapped Vastra. 

“Well, I was just thinking,” said Jenny. “ ‘Member I told you that the Scorpions have their fingers in a lot of crimes? People say they make a good bit of coin from that. But when we saw the Scorpions with my Da, they were dressed as poor as the costermongers and dock workers. It didn’t look like they had much money. So if the stories are true, why are they so poor?”

“You’re wondering what becomes of the money?” 

“Well, unless the stories are wrong.”

“Stories to keep the locals living in fear? That’s possible.” Vastra turned the idea over in her mind. She was learning to listen to Jenny; the hatchling was young, but she paid attention and asked good questions, even if she didn’t know the answers. 

Vastra shook her head after a moment. “This are interesting, but it’s a distraction. Meanwhile, we have training to do. Plot and plan later.

“Time to start. Focus on the Now, and we’ll begin.” They exchanged the salute with weapons that Vastra had taught Jenny, and they commenced the lesson. 

***

After giving the situation some deliberation, a day later Vastra announced a new plan to Jenny.

“I will spend some time finding Scorpions, following them, and learning their nests and habits,” said Vastra. “I want to follow up on your thought about where the money they swindle is going. I’ll also gain a better idea of how they are organized.”

“Brilliant, ma’am. Let me get my things…

“No Jenny.” Vastra held out a hand. “You are not coming with me.”

“But ma’am, I know the streets…”

“You can’t come with me,” Vastra said firmly. “Not this time. If you are caught by the Scorpions… Do you understand how much danger you are in?” Her voice turned fierce, “If I had prey such as you, I would never give up!”  
Jenny stilled, caught by surprised.

Vastra continued, “We defeated them. Remember what your friend Ro… Tom, said? They were grown, dangerous Apes embarrassed by a fighting female hatchling and a demon with a sword. They need to find you to prove it’s not true, and to keep their pride.”

Jenny rather liked Vastra’s causal use of “We defeated them.” Made them both sound dangerous. As far as Jenny was concerned, Vastra had thoroughly trounced the men and Jenny had merely punched and yelled.

Vastra watched Jenny. Her pet looked slightly mollified, as if she was considering the words a little. Vastra felt a trickle of pride, remembering the little monkey who refused to cower or give in to her attackers. She could see Jenny thinking it through, and Vastra continued, “For now, promise me that you will not veventure east of Bishops Gate and Grace Church Street.” That was a line less than a mile east of them, just past the Bank of England, running roughly North-South. Another mile beyond that, close to the Thames River, was Jenny’s old home.

Jenny saw an objection, “But ma’am, the markets are east of there.” Not that she was able to go to them often, but the food there was fairly cheap. She could stretch a shilling to cover a decent amount of food, especially if it was blemished or getting old. A potato with some small eyes was still a decent potato. And perhaps a bit of meat other than pigeon might be smart.

The other day Vastra had put aside one of the birds she’d captured and told Jenny not to eat it. It turned out that Vastra had accidently poisoned it when she caught it with her tongue. Jenny had been torn between disbelief and resignation that Vastra was quite capable of killing something with poisonous venom. It seemed to her the surprises about Madame Vastra just kept coming. 

“Then I will accompany you when you need to shop,” Madame Vastra continued. “But even with me, for now, don’t venture east of the Coal Exchange and Billingsgate Market. Jenny, I am only trying to keep you from danger.”  
Jenny sighed; she didn’t want to miss the excitement, but Madame Vastra was doing her a favour. She must not grouse about being left out. “All right. Ma’am. I’ll stay put.”

Vastra donned up her cloak over her cutlass, and pulled her hood into place. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

***

Vastra made her way to Beer Lane. While she might not know where to find the Scorpions nests, she knew at least one contact point for them: Jenny’s father. She waited patiently in the shadows of a building across from Jenny’s family flat. Eventually she saw Jenny’s father come out and followed him east towards the Basins and the docks. At one point, she saw several labourers who had features similar to the Scorpions, ‘Chinese’ Jenny had said, from a distant country, but they ignored the man she was following and she decided they were most likely simply fellow workers in the area. Finally, Jenny’s father was confronted by two 'Chinese' men, and they exchanged words. Vastra wasn’t able to hear the exchange, but when the Apes parted, she kept in the shadows and followed the newcomers.

***

It took Vastra several days to locate the various Scorpions operations. Each time she returned to the flat, she relayed her findings to Jenny, who started keeping notes in her copybook, in order to keep track of what Vastra had seen. Vastra approved, and gave Jenny money to buy a better notebook and a proper pen and ink, so she could keep the notes organized. It was good practice in writing and thinking for the hatchling. It also kept her interested and involved in the situation without endangering her. 

In turn, Jenny was surprised how quickly Madame Vastra could work. Madame enjoyed the chance to hunt again, didn’t tire of the chase, and her hunting instincts and experience worked well to London. She understood how to use shadows, and alleyways and wasn’t put off by some of the rougher characters found in both. Usually she was able to either ignore them or frighten them off. On two occasions, stronger measures were needed.

Vastra took the time while returning home to order her thoughts properly and then spoke slowly and clearly so that Jenny, who still needed a great deal of practice, was able to keep up with her while writing. In relating her findings to Jenny, Vastra left out both the ‘midnight snacks’ she’d indulged in. 

Slowly a picture began to emerge of an intricate web of activities that fed funds from the people of London who could least afford to lose it, the poorest of the poor; through a series of Tong ‘trusteds’ as Vastra called them, and finally up to the top tier. Vastra was surprised to find that three of the four Apes in that top tier didn’t look like the ‘Chinese’ at the bottom, and longed to bring Jenny with her just once to confirm her suspicions that the ‘Chinese’ were almost as much victims as their supposed prey.

The problem was that the closer to the top tier that Vastra approached, the more secrecy and security surrounded the Apes. The areas of the city in which they lived and worked were definitely not poor or what Jenny called ‘common folk.’ Vastra, cloaked as she was even as the days were warming up, did not fit in as well, except after dark. She found she needed to go out later and later at night. And she returned later as well, so that Jenny was sometimes half-asleep when she finished her notes. 

One morning, Jenny was re-reading what she’d written the last few days. When she sorted out that Vastra was now ‘hunting’ in the more prosperous West End, Jenny almost started bouncing with excitement.

“I can help you now! Nobody in the West End would even glance at me! Give me a day; I’ll go to the rag pickers and find a disguise!”

“You won’t know what to look for. These Apes…”

“Take me with you tonight and tomorrow. Show me what you’re looking for, who you’re following. Then let me watch by day, and you hunt at night.”  
Vastra made a little hissing noise that meant she was unhappy. “I’m supposed to be protecting you.”

“You are. But I’m as safe as houses in the West End. The little Scorpions won’t go there, and the big ones don’t care about the likes of me. ” Jenny could see that Vastra was not ready to give in.

“Make you a deal: I’ll see what I can find during the day. You can check it in the evening. If I can’t do it, we’ll stop, and you can hunt alone again. I’ll need to keep up the cleaning job here anyway; still need the money if I want to eat more than pigeon.”

Vastra just shook her head. Jenny was up to mischief again, but perhaps she could make it work.

***

Madame Vastra had to concede, when Jenny decided something, it was done with all the speed her young pet could muster.

Later that morning Jenny took two shillings from the money Vastra was holding for her, and went to find a disguise. She returned with some bits of white cloth. 

“I got a cap and apron from the rag picker.” She put the apron on over her dark dress. 

Then she did something that surprised Vastra; she took her hair ‘tail’ (it was the only term Vastra could think of,) twisted it around, and stuck some bits of metal in it. It stayed at the back of her head, and Jenny placed the white cap over it, and fixed it with more metal bits. Then she picked up a worn little basket that she’d bought to complete her outfit, and examined the result in a bit of mirror out in the landing of the stairway. “This’ll do nicely,” she said. “Only other servants will ever notice me, and they’ll think I’m just a scullery maid on an errand.”

Vastra had seen some of the hatchlings dressed like this, but had never given them much thought. She admitted to herself that Jenny might be right. She looked very different. 

*** 

Jenny put away her disguise for the evening, and in her plain clothes went with Madame Vastra on her hunt. She’d rarely been this far west in the city in the city before, and seemed eager to check all the street signs and try to get her bearings. The weather was clear, which helped them, and they spotted almost all their quarry over the next two evenings

Jenny confirmed Vastra’s suspicion that several of the senior Scorpions were not Chinese. She was not able to see the last man; he tended to stay in the East End near Limehouse where Vastra had first seen him. Vastra was still sticking to her rule and not letting Jenny go into Scorpion Territory. 

***

Thursday morning Jenny dressed in her scullery maid clothes, took her basket, and headed out. Vastra quietly followed her as long as she could, but when the streets grew busier and busier she could see people staring at her more and more, so she returned to the flat to wait. She spent the time re-reading Jenny’s notes, and convincing herself that she was merely concerned about the success of the scheme, and not overly worried about her pet’s safety. Late in the afternoon, Jenny returned, tired but happy. She was carrying what looked at first glance like bits of dirt in her basket.

“Picked up some potatoes and spring onions, so it’d look like I was on an errand for the kitchen. Blimey, food’s expensive there! Be good for pigeon stew though.”  
Jenny showed Vastra the basket. Inside where a few round dirty brown lumps, and two long green things with a white bulbous end and tiny tendrils. Vastra was aghast, how could Jenny eat these repulsive things? The girl must have a strong stomach. 

Jenny pulled out a slip of paper written in pencil. “I got two of their addresses.”

“Do you have names for them?”

“Have one. Heard his butler say it at the door when he went in. Don’t have the others yet.”

“Still, that’s an excellent start. You have a talent for this.”

“Got real lucky too. The other must have thought it was too nice a day for a carriage. He went for a nice long stroll. Right to a bank.”

“Which bank? Did you see the name?”

“Yes, Madame.” Jenny looked back at her slip of paper. “He went to Sherwin and Somes Bank on Paternoster Row.”

“The Ledgers that Mr Thackeray was taking to Mr Dawes when he was attacked. The ones that Mr Dawes was reviewing… They were from that bank. Correct?”

Jenny looked up with a grin. “Thought the name was familiar. Yes, that’s the one.”

Vastra nodded, pleased. “Well done, Jenny. Very well done.”

***

Slowly, they built up observations and notes. By the end of April, Vastra was able to put together a fairly detailed picture of the senior ‘investors’ in the Scorpions, their highest officers, and which banks they dealt with. A bank on Aldridge Lane, another on High Holburn and Sherwin and Somes on Paternoster Row were the preferred institutions. 

They had names and addresses for some fourteen men, which banks each dealt with, and including a little on the senior Chinese Scorpion. Vastra had never seen him near enter a bank, so where he stored his funds were still a mystery. 

Still what they had was enough for Madame Vastra to develop a plan of attack against the Black Scorpion Tong.

***

Since the Bank of England was less than ten minutes away, and Mr Thackeray liked the place, especially the house bitter; he started to visit the Gin Palace occasionally. Usually he came early in the week, before the more boisterous crowd arrived. He’d bring other bank workers sometimes as well. It helped that he also liked Jenny and Madame Vastra, though they were never in the Gin Palace itself in the evenings. From time to time he could find them if he poked his head out the back door, sitting in the Area at the back and enjoying the twilight. Usually Madame Vastra would speak with him for a bit if he kept to the commonplace, or about news around the city. Any personal questions, he found, were politely but firmly turned aside.

Jenny would often sit near them, either on the bench with Madame Vastra, or on the nearby stairs, or sometimes on the ground. One evening, Thackeray noticed that she seemed rather sleepy, and as she sat on the ground near Madame Vastra, she kept nodding off, fighting not to slump against Vastra’s legs. James was amused to see the young girl lose the fight, sliding gently against the bench at her back and the skirts of her employer. Madame Vastra glanced down, and shook her head.

“She’s been very busy these last few weeks, running errands for me. It’s tiring her out, but she’s young and she always bounces back.” 

“What sort of errands, Madame?” 

Vastra considered him for a moment. This might be a good time to start laying a foundation for some changes she wanted if her plans came to pass.

“While I was born not far from here, I’ve lived outside London and the British Empire since my childhood. I’ve only recently returned. My assets, both cash and notes, were unexpectedly delayed in arriving, which is why I am living at this place. Jenny has been assisting me to become familiar with the City, and to learn the about the A.. people here. In return she has a place to sleep and food to eat, and I am educating her.” 

“As well, for my own reasons, I am not… comfortable going out during the day. Jenny helps with that as well, both getting me out of my flat, and going out and about on my behalf.” 

“You mentioned your funds… Is there any help I can give you there? The Bank has both national and international connections, of course.”

“You are very kind to ask. The matter only requires some patience to resolve, I believe. You are aware of the recent troubles in Russia?” Vastra herself had only the vaguest idea, she was only aware that someone important had died. But she wanted Thackeray to believe that while she was currently in strained circumstances, she shortly expected to be in an improved situation. 

“The assassination of the Tsar?” 

Vastra made a note to find out if Jenny could explain what a Tsar was. “Among other things,” she hedged.

Thackeray nodded again, “Yes, we’ve heard about the unrest. The newspapers have been full of reports.” 

Vastra added to her mental notes to also get some newspapers and do some research.

“I’m not sure how much I should tell you…” and that was the truth. She’d wanted to lay some groundwork for the future, but she hadn’t thought it out. Mr Thackeray was very bright in his own area of expertise. She’d underestimate the Ape.

At that point, Jenny shook herself awake. She glanced up at Madame Vastra and then at Mr. Thackeray, blinking owlishly. “Sorry ‘bout that,” she muttered. “I should go up. Must be more tired than I thought.” Jenny levered herself up, slightly unsteady, stretch and yawned, remembering half-way through to cover her mouth. She grinned sheepishly at Thackeray. “Sorry, sir. Good night.” She glanced back at Vastra, who rose as well.

“I will come up as well. Mr Thackeray, it has been a pleasant evening.”

“Madame, it has been most enlightening. Please remember that if there is anything the Bank or I can do to assist you, we are at your disposal. And please, call me James.”

Behind Mr Thackeray, at the door to the stairs, Vastra could see that Jenny was suddenly shaking her head and mouthing “No.” Her pet was warning her off from using the Ape’s name, and for now she’d heed the warning. She decided on a neutral reply.

“I will remember. Good Night.”

And with that, she turned and left with Jenny.

***

“Sorry to bust up your evening, ma’am, but it sounded like you needed a rescue.” 

Vastra’s pride was stung. “I had the situation under control.” 

Jenny shook her head. “If you say so, I’ll take your word for it.” But it didn’t sound like that to me, she thought.

Vastra fumed for few moments, and then quietly asked, “Do you know what a Tsar is?”

Jenny shook her head, amused. “Nope. Want me to buy a newspaper or two tomorrow?”

Vastra sighed, “Yes, that would be wise. I thought you were asleep.”

“Just dozed off for a moment. Heard most of what you said about not living here for years. How true is that?”

“All of it. I was born near here. Until recently, I did not live in the City of London or the British Empire.” 

They separated at the door to the flat, Jenny to the Necessary down the hall, Vastra into the room to begin the process of getting her layers of clothing off for bed. When Jenny returned, she helped Vastra as needed.

“What were you warning me about when Mr Thackeray asked me to call him ‘James’?”

“Wasn’t sure if you understood what that means. He’s sweet on you, Ma’am.”

Vastra frowned. “`Sweet’ on me?”

Jenny grinned. “He likes you. Wants to get to know you better. Might be thinking of courting you.”

Vastra cocked in head in confusion. “Courting me?” 

Jenny nodded, “He probably thinks that you might like some better company than a girl like me. So he’ll ask you out, spend some time with you, get to know you. Maybe at some point he’ll ask you to marry him.”

Vastra thought over what Jenny had told her about being married. It was a way for two people to live together, share a household, and perhaps start a family and have hatchlings. 

Vastra was appalled, “Are you saying that he wants to MATE with me?” 

Jenny’s jaw dropped open. Even for Madame Vastra, that was pretty blunt. She took a moment to collect herself. “Well, eventually… maybe… yes? Pretty sure that’s a while off yet. He’s barely met you. And he’s never even seen..”

“He’s an APE! A male APE! Gods, that’s disgusting! Me… no, ANY of my people, mating with an APE?”

Jenny recoiled, surprised at Vastra’s obvious revulsion. “He doesn’t know you’re not a regular person, now does he?”

“It doesn’t matter. How could he even think…!”

“Oi!” Jenny caught Vastra’s attention. “He’s just trying to be nice, ma’am. He seems a decent sort, with a good living, and polite manners. He’s not a dockworker offering you a trip over a barrel! Calm down. I’ll warn him off, as I take it you’re not interested.”

Vastra shivered. “No! I would never let an Ape that close to me!”

“But…”

“Enough! I don’t want to discuss this anymore. I’ll probably have nightmares as it is. Get in bed and go to sleep.” She waved her hand at the bed, distracted. Jenny slid in next to the wall, and stretched out with her back to Vastra, who slipped in beside her, facing the room, their backs close but not touching in the narrow bed. They’d settled into this routine weeks ago, and neither gave it any thought now.

It was on the tip of Jenny’s tongue to remind Vastra that Jenny herself was a so-called ‘ape’ but she held her peace. She was too tired to argue, and besides, she really didn’t want to get kicked out of the soft bed to sleep on the floor tonight. 

***

The next afternoon, after Jenny returned from her errands, complete with ‘The Times’ and ‘The Guardian’ she decided to ask about the other part of the last night’s conversation that had interested her: Vastra’s mention of expecting funds. She’d needed to give that some thought; she was pretty sure Vastra had some money hidden in the room. Vastra had a little bag with Jenny’s earnings in it from which she gave Jenny food money when she needed it, but the bag never seemed to get smaller after the rent was due. Which Jenny guessed meant that Vastra was paying the rent with other savings. But yesterday had been the first time Madame had mentioned having more money somewhere.

While Vastra read the papers, Jenny worked on her notes. After a while, she worked up the courage to ask, “Madame, what does Russia have to do with your funds being delayed?” 

“Ah, you heard that bit as well, did you?” Vastra leaned back in the chair, and regarded Jenny for a long moment as the hatchling finished her writing and closed her notebook. “Have you ever heard of ‘undermining’ a stronghold?” she asked. 

Jenny shook her head, confused by the change in subject. “I know mining is digging up coal and gold and things, and I think that a stronghold might be like the Tower of London near Da’s flat, but I’ve never heard of digging coal under the Tower. What’s that got to do with Russia?” 

Vastra tried not to smile at Jenny’s sensible but tangled attempt to reason out the question.

“Nothing. The part about Russia was a distraction, to help explain why we will suddenly have a great deal of money. By the way, according to these newspapers, the Tsar was the Russian King. He was murdered in mid-March by revolutionaries.” Jenny nodded. Interesting and no doubt his family was sad, but otherwise not particularly important. What was this about ‘a great deal of money?’

“To answer the original question: ‘Mining’ or ‘undermining’ a stronghold,” explained Vastra, “is a siege tactic, when the enemy has a strongly defended fortified position. A frontal attack, not matter how strong, would be suicide. But undermining involves digging under the foundations of an enemy fortress or stronghold and collapsing a section. Typically once part of the wall of the stronghold collapses, warriors are sent in to overwhelm the enemy forces. It was far out of date in my time, but our warriors still learned the theory, as it sometimes applies in other ways.”

“That’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to take down the Black Scorpions by undermining their strongholds, which in their case is the money they’ve made. In other words, we’re going to attack their finances.”  
Jenny shook her head again, baffled. 

Vastra smiled and explained, “That’s where our funds are going to come from. We’re going to steal their money. Or to put it in the words of your hero Robin Hood: We’re going to rob from the rich and keep it for the poor.”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to work like that,” muttered Jenny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of Vastra and Jenny’s visit to the Bank of England is heavily based on “Max Schlesinger, Saunterings in and about London, 1853” found on VictorianLondon.org
> 
> The Russian Tsar, Alexander II, was assassinated in March 1881 by social revolutionaries, having survived at least four previous attempts. Known as Alexander the Liberator, he freed the Russian serfs in 1861. His brother the new Tsar, Alexander III, promptly tore up the plans that reformer Alexander II had been about to announce for an elected Parliament. The Tsars continued to rule until the Russian Revolution in 1917.


	3. Planning, Preparation, Pilfering and Panic

**Late April – Early May 1881**

“It’s not that I’m against stealing from criminals you see,” explained Jenny. “It’s just… maybe we should tell Mr Thackeray or Mr Dawes? About the Scorpions and the banks, I mean. Ain’t Mr Dawes already looking at their ledgers?”

“For all we know, Mr Dawes could be checking the work of one of the clerks at the other bank. And there is another consideration: Mr Dawes is the only member of the Bank of England who knew that Thackeray had those ledgers. He could have ordered the robbery attempt.”

“Why would he? The ledgers were coming right to him. And the manager at Sherwin knew as well. But I think you’re likely right. Someone set up Mr Thackeray to be robbed.”

“True. However I think you understand what I mean about not trusting the bankers with this.”

Jenny hummed in thought. “Maybe… we should try and tell the police?”

“You seem reluctant to involve them. Why?”

“Don’t really trust them, to be honest. Had a bit of a run-in with them.”

“What do you mean?”

Jenny sighed. “When I first found out Da had sold me to the Scorpions, I went to a constable. He was new, but I told him what happened and asked for help. He said I was being silly, making up stories and he tried to take me home. I barely got away.” She shook her head. “What hurt was that I tried to tell another one, our local constable. I’d known him for years. Big bloke, not bad, but not very bright. He did the same thing.” Jenny looked up. “If I’d trusted the police, I’d have been raped, then whored out for the Scorpions profit.” Jenny shivered. “Forget what I said. Police are too hidebound. They don’t think much of poor folk, women or children.”

Vastra regarded her pet for a long moment. “It sounds as if, before that happened, you trusted the Police.”

Jenny nodded. “I did. Now, I don’t.”

Vastra nodded as well. “Then we will proceed with my plan, and fight the Scorpions together. And I’ll deal with anyone who gets in our way!” 

***

Vastra began to investigate how to get into the banks to drain off the Scorpions funds. She was familiar with many of the tunnels, sewers and underground waterways of central London and now began to explore them in more detail. 

When she’d first awoken in this strange world of half-evolved, mechanically inclined Apes, the tunnels had been both her refuge and her prison. She’d used them to hide from a world that angered and frightened her, and used them to wreck her vengeance for the murder of her sisters. The workers and commuters of the Metropolitan Railway had learned to fear the thing that lived in the tunnels near the Baker Street Station; that brought death in the dark. But she could not escape from the tunnels. She possessed no understanding of the world around her, and the screams and shouts of the Apes who saw her bare face taught her quickly there would be little chance of peace with them.

It was The Doctor who saved her, letting her travel with him for a time, protecting her from the world, and the world from her. Travelling with him had both strengthened and calmed her, and she’d learned to control her hatred of the humans. He eventually returned her to Victorian London, and introduced her to Henry Gordon Jago, who had not met him yet. The meeting was one of those strange time things that The Doctor was often ensnarled by. Jago was looking for a feature attraction for his travelling show, set up in the grounds of the old Cremore Gardens, and Vastra fit the bill as the ‘Amazing Lizard Lady.’

Several years had passed in London since her murderous rampage, and no one connected her to the deaths. Still, the Doctor charged her with protecting the humans. He’d given her time though, simply saying that when she was needed, she would begin. He believed in her. 

Her first day with the ‘Monstre Gathering’, they’d even rescued a little monkey from being abducted by an infamous child-killer. Vastra had tracked their scents, practically tasting the little one’s fear in the air. The poor thing was half blinded by tears, half-suffocated by the cloth stuffed in its mouth to prevent its screams and completely terrified by the straight-razor at its throat. Even then, it had managed to land a lucky kick at the right moment, distracting its Ape captor and giving The Doctor an opening to overwhelm the Ape and pull loose its prey. He sent the monkey scrambling away to safety with Vastra; it was more frightened of being lost and winded and tossed around by shouting adults than by Vastra’s face. The Doctor, in high dudgeon, had promptly and properly pummelled the paedophile. Vastra had consoled the crying hatchling with calm words and a cup of hot sweet tea from her new tent, while The Doctor turned the Ape over to the authorities and found the monkey’s parents. He’d returned it to its family little worse for wear despite the distressing adventure, thanks to their quick work.  
He’d asked Vastra afterwards what it had felt like to make a difference again on her own world. She’d told him it felt…very good.  
And now, true to his insight, she was planning to take out a gang of thieves and murderers, and making friends with the Apes. Amazing. 

***

“My god, you stink!” 

Jenny was not happy the first day Vastra returned from the sewers. Vastra admitted that her clothes were a foul mess, and treated Jenny to a loaf of fresh bread to make up for the laundry. They designated a set of sewer crawling clothes for Vastra, and now when Vastra returned from her underground investigations, Jenny was ready to clean everything, including Vastra herself. Well, Jenny handled the laundry; Vastra took care of her own grooming. Still, there was always a bucket of fresh hot water and a chunk of soap ready when she returned. 

Meanwhile, the tunnels and sewers were useful. The city was almost hollow underneath, so riddled by tunnels that Vastra was able to approach all the banks very closely. In one case the sewer could not be more than fifteen feet from the bank’s vault.

However, it soon became obvious that Vastra was not alone underground. She was almost spotted by several groups of workers, and other denizens. Some were merely searching for things they could sell to buy another day’s survival. Others had more sinister motives. She decided to be more cautious and that an extra pair of hands and eyes might be wise. She needed a helper.

Fortunately, one was readily at hand.

***

She found Jenny on the roof, practising some of the blade forms she’d learned. Vastra watched her for a few minutes: her pet took the practice seriously, concentrating on her thrusts, cuts and blocks, and checking that her grip on her oversized knife was sure and her stance was correct. She moved slowly, concentrating more on technique than speed at the moment, and Vastra was pleased to see that she was doing well. She was still a beginner, with less than three months training and a great deal to learn, but she was making the most of their lessons. Vastra admitted, at least to herself, that Jenny’s idea of giving Vastra something to do by teaching Jenny these skills was a good one. Not only was Jenny learning, but the discipline of instruction required Vastra to give some thought to what she was teaching, and in doing so she was remembering lessons and experiences she’d long ago set aside. They were both benefitting, far more than Vastra had ever thought was possible.

However: “You are still leaning forward too much. Remember to keep your balance centred. If you over-reach, your strikes will not be powerful, and your blocks will be weak.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

Vastra eyed her pet for a moment, and then suddenly smiled, grabbed one of the short sticks they sometimes used for training and shouted, “Think fast!” as she dove for Jenny.

Vasta threw a quick blow at Jenny’s head. Jenny stepped backed and blocked by instinct, wood and metal striking with a dull ring. Jenny recovered her blade to the centre, to block again or cut, but Vastra was already swinging the stick around her own head, using the momentum of the block’s rebound to add speed.

She aimed the second blow at Jenny’s left side. Jenny pivoted, and was able to block again, thrown only slightly off-balance. Vastra smiled, pleased but amused. The girl would quickly learn to adjust at this rate. She blocked a clumsy cut from Jenny, and swung again, the stick whistling lightly in the air. 

For Vastra these were loose lazy strikes, as she only wanted to test Jenny, not hurt her. Much. 

She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t hit Jenny (except during training) because she didn’t want to be anything like Jenny’s father. A Gorilla who beat his own child! While kin ties between her people ran differently, someone so malicious as to deliberate hurt a member of their own family would have been confined for study and eventual dissection to help prevent future insanity. 

But during training how to control pain and work through it was something that her people’s warriors were taught. So Jenny would slowly and carefully learn that too. Vastra had explained this, and Jenny had agreed.

Still, a good sting would do much better than a broken bone right now, especially as she was still not sure about human vets. It was enough that Jenny had a very sharp knife, and Vastra was armed with only her short stick. Vastra knew she was a far better fighter than Jenny; she didn’t need to prove it or have the sadistic pleasure of beating up an unskilled opponent. 

One who had just blocked her third strike. But it was a feeble block; after an afternoon spent exercising before Vastra returned, Jenny was tiring. Vastra chose her target and delivered another weak but smarting strike. Jenny almost blocked it, catching Vastra’s stick on her knuckles by accident. She howled and dropped her knife. 

Vastra danced back to avoid the falling weapon. Jenny impulsively dove forward, her hand reaching to save the knife. She gasped in surprise when her wrist was suddenly caught by Vastra’s tongue. Vastra released her as soon as the knife clattered on the rooftop. 

“Never try to catch a falling blade,” said Vastra. “The odds are excellent that you’ll cut or stab yourself. All novices make that mistake. Once. Some make it more than once. Don’t be that novice.” She looked up, and saw Jenny had pulled back, glancing at Vastra and nervously inspecting her wrist. “Did I harm you?” asked Vastra.

“No, sorry, just your tongue…” said Jenny worriedly. Vastra looked at her quizzically for a moment, with her head cocked. “That bird t’other day…” 

“Ah! That!” Vastra nodded. “My venom sac only engages when I’m angry or very frightened. Usually my tongue is not venomous. I can control it quite easily.” She felt embarrassed. “The other day I was distracted, thinking about your notes and I became annoyed that the pigeon was taking so long to catch. The benighted thing was sitting around the corner teasing me until it finally moved. I became too angry, and reacted poorly.”

Jenny relaxed, and stopped fiddling with her wrist. She bent and retrieved the knife. “You weren’t angry just now?” she continued. “Know I’m supposed to keep hold of this.”

“No. I most definitely was not angry. I was worried that you would cut your hand open trying to catch the blade, but I was watching for it.” Vastra removed her glove, and showed Jenny her left palm. A thin line crossed the tiny light green scales at an odd angle. “As I said, all novices make that mistake. I was lucky and just received a cut. That knife of yours could easily take a finger off if you caught it badly. Or the point go right through your foot, it’s so heavy.”

Jenny nodded solemnly as she tucked away her knife in the sheath she’d made for it. She’d remember what Vastra told her.

“Now enough fun,” said Vastra. “I need you to come with me tonight. We’re going to implement my plan soon and I want you to become familiar with the tunnels.” 

“Right, then, I’ll visit the rag picker again. If we’re crawling around in sewers, better dress for the occasion.”

“Excellent. I want to check the local access points. I’ll meet you back here later.”

***

That evening, Vastra started to enter the flat, but stopped and hissed in anger. A young ape was in the room, wearing the trousers typical of the males and a soft cloth cap. His head was down, looking in a drawer; no doubt intending to rob them. She couldn’t see his face. Of Jenny there was no sign, though Vastra could smell that she was recently here. All this Vastra saw in a moment, and she reacted with a thrust of her tongue to kill the interloper.

“Have you seen the…WHOA!” the ape finished with a shout, nimbly dodging the poisonous tongue, which splashed venom on the counter-top. “Watch it with that thing, it’s bloody well loaded!” 

“Who are you? Where is Jenny?” hissed Vastra. In her anger and fear for Jenny, she wasn’t listening to the Ape’s voice.

“What do you mean… oh fer god’s sake!” The ape snatched off its cap, its hair fell out, and suddenly Jenny was staring at her, dark eyes filled with anger. Vastra blinked, taking in the slight figure wearing too large trousers, a loose shirt and jacket, a cloth satchel and sturdy boots, all in dark colors. “I told you I was going to get some clothes for crawling around in the sewers. You damn near killed me!”

“Can’t you tell girls from boys? Women from men?” asked Jenny, with a fierce scowl. Vastra was impressed; the hatchling was so angry, she was almost breathing fire! 

“Ummm, I still have some trouble with that,” said Vastra sheepishly. “I usually go by what clothes an A.. a person is wearing.” She eyed Jenny hopefully, but the little dragon was only just starting to calm down. 

“You and the rest o’ the world. And what do you keep telling me about properly identifying your target, ma’am?” Jenny grumbled. Vastra fought down a smile, ‘She’s so endearing when she’s annoyed,’ thought Vastra.

“What were you looking for?” Vastra asked, trying for a change of subject

“Damned if I remember!” huffed Jenny. 

“Well if you are ready, then come along.” Vastra turned to the door, and then looked back.

“And Jenny… bring your knife.” 

***

Madame Vastra took them into the tunnels at an access off Cheapside just east of the Gin Palace. Madame removed her cloak once inside, twisted it into a thick rope, tied the ends together, and slung it over her left shoulder. Her cutlass hilt gleamed dully at her side. She didn’t seem to need a light, but Jenny stopped her, taking a small lantern that she’d borrowed from the Gin Palace from her satchel. It was a cylinder with a lens in the side, and two handles at the back, that only shone in one direction at a time. They could use it to see, but it would not ruin their night vision by putting too much light in their eyes. It was fitted with a wick and a small kerosene lamp. Jenny lit it with one of her matches, and took a moment to look around. Here they were entering a stream, covered over and channelled, in an oval-shaped brick tunnel. It didn’t smell near as bad as Jenny had expected.

“There’s a river down here!”

“Yes. We will follow it north from here, and then cross into one of the east-west drainage tunnels that parallel the Thames. I warn you; that will be very unpleasant. Make certain that you do not touch your face with your hands at any time. It would be far too easy to become sick as a result. The water there is raw sewage.”

They spent the evening exploring. Vastra took Jenny through the tunnels, to each of the three banks they’d been investigating. From time to time, she also pointed out access points to the surface. By the time they were done, Jenny was thoroughly turned around.

***

They returned to the flat, rinsing off their boots in the underground river, where the water was a little cleaner than the sewers. Just before they stepped on the ladder to the street, Vastra shook out her cloak and put it back on. When they reached the Gin Place, she strode openly into the Area at the back, saw some of the regulars who waved and then wondered where Jenny had suddenly disappeared to. She saw Jenny a moment later, hiding in the shadows of the gate. Vastra puzzled over her behaviour for a moment, and then decided that Jenny was trying to not be seen. She moved to draw the eyes of the others away from the gate and the stairs, and spoke with them a few moments, while Jenny crept into the entrance and started up the stairs.

When Jenny was clear, Vastra bid the others good evening, and followed her up. She found Jenny in the flat, looking a bit shaken.

***

“Sorry for the bother. Didn’t want to attract attention by being seen. Not proper for me to be wearing trousers, you see, as I’m a girl. It’d be strange enough that people might remember me wearing them if the police come round asking questions. Could be trouble after we raid the banks.” 

“Why shouldn’t girls wear trousers?” 

“Well, I’m not really sure, to be honest. Don’t understand meself. Think it’s got to do with trousers being men’s clothes, and skirts being women’s clothes. Not sure if it’s a law or not.”

“Men’s clothes? How can they be men’s clothes? They are your clothes, are they not? You paid for them with money you worked hard to earn.” Vastra, shook her head, baffled. “Besides, some of your men wear skirts. The soldiers who chew screaming cats wear them.”

It was Jenny’s turn to be confused: “The soldiers who do what?”

“Never mind,” said Vastra. “It seems to me that for our explorations tonight, and the work we will be doing in the near future, it is a very practical set of clothes. I have my own reasons for preferring skirts and dresses, but you are fine. And well done for identifying that it might be an issue in the future. Bring a long skirt with you next time. Then you can put it on when we’re on the streets, as I do with my cloak.”

“Right ho! Brilliant Madame!” Jenny thought for a moment. “Might need masks too.”

“Masks? Battle Masks?” asked Vastra. She remembered the fierce and practical battle masks of her people.

Jenny looked surprised. “Sort of like that, I guess. Something to hide our faces, anyway. In case we’re seen in the streets. Make it harder to finger us.”

“Finger us?” asked Vastra, surprised.

“For the raids, ma’am. Harder for a witness to say for sure it was us.”

“Your language can be very strange,” sighed Vastra.

***

Jenny scrounged up a bag-like mask for Madame Vastra. It wasn’t very good; her crests were too obvious through the cloth, but Jenny hoped that it would confuse most of those who saw it. She made a small black cloth mask that tied at the back of her head for herself. In the dark, and dressed as a boy, she hoped that would be enough.

***

On the night of the first bank raid, Vastra stationed Jenny at the junction of two merging tunnels, which had several access points nearby. Although it was late at night and they didn’t need to worry much about the sewer flushers, Vastra was concerned that some of the Toshers might be out late, searching for scrap metal washed into the sewer. Since Jenny was lookout, she could hear Vastra working nearby, but was unable to see what she was doing. Jenny expected that it would take several nights to dig a tunnel through the strong brickwork of the sewers. As it turned out, in less than an hour Vastra returned, and led Jenny into a new, smooth-sided tunnel. Jenny had no idea how Vastra had done it.

***

The underground vault of Wilmott’s Bank on Aldridge Lane was dark and silent, but then Saturday night was not usually a busy time for a bank. However if there had been anyone there to listen carefully, they would have heard a slight scratching noise, which slowly grew louder. At last, a small hole appeared in the floor of the vault, and grew rapidly larger. And then for a moment, all was still and quiet again.

Until suddenly, a green scale-covered head popped out of the hole. Vastra surveyed the vault with interest, her excellent night vision allowing her to see silhouettes despite the complete dark. She glanced back down, and quietly whispered, “Pass me the lantern.” After Jenny passed it to her she added, “I’m going to go up and look around. You stay here, and keep watch.””

“Right.”

Vastra pressed herself out of the hole, and scrambled to her feet. The lantern revealed bags of coins, boxes containing stacks of paper bank notes, and a host of small vaults built into one wall. 

She noticed a pile of ledgers and daybooks on a shelf, and a quick perusal turned up the ledgers which contained the names they were looking for. Vastra then located the day books for the latest entry for each name. Jenny had been interested in the books when the bank clerks had shown them to her. If they could match up records to the Scorpions they were chasing, they could note the amounts they held at the bank. They could always mail them back to the bank when she was done with them. 

Vastra put them to her sack. There was also a small book that had numbers written in it followed by names. The front was marked ‘Record of Safe Deposit Boxes.’ She added that to her sack as well. Then she grabbed a large bag of mixed coins, and seized a heavy box of banknotes. 

She gave a short hiss into the mouth of the hole, and Jenny was there a moment later, taking charge of the lantern first, then helping lower down the various sacks and box and stack them out of Vastra’s way. Finally Vastra herself replaced her mask, and then dropped back into the hole.

In total, she’d spent less than twenty minutes in the vault.

***

They were both on edge, and the trip back through the tunnels seemed to take longer. They stopped once to avoid a pair of Toshers. They waited in a small side tunnel, which also allowed Jenny a short rest from carrying one of the heavy bags. Vastra kept charge of the other two packages.

Eventually, they arrived back near the Gin Palace, took a few minutes to rinse themselves off at a nearby pump, and then Jenny scouted the back entrance with the staircase to the flat. A light rain had started to fall, and the Area was clear. They gained the flat with no trouble.

*** 

“How does this work again?” asked Vastra. “Fifteen pence to a shilling, and 25 shillings to a pound, isn’t it?”

Jenny looked at her, surprised. “No ma’am! Don’t tell me you’ve been using those numbers! You’ve been overpaying for everything!”

Vastra shook her head, “I can’t understand why Great Britain has never managed to adopt a decimal system of coinage. I've read that the French have one, as do the Americans. Why not here as well?”

“Probably ‘cause the French and Americans do it; British will want their own way,” replied Jenny, as she sorted coins into neat stacks. “Right now: **twelve pence** to a shilling, **twenty shillings** to a pound. So **two hundred and forty pence to a pound** sterling.” She pulled over her school slate, and started counting coins. Vastra decided that the best thing to do was to let Jenny get on with it, and turned to examine the book marked ‘Record of Safe Deposit Boxes.’ 

*** 

Vastra looked up sometime later to see Jenny her arms folded on the table, and her chin on her forearms, staring at the table filled with neat stacks of coins, her slate, and a little pile of papers. “Is there a problem?” Vastra asked.

“No, not really. Think I’m just… it’s too much. Can’t be real.”

Vastra put aside the ledgers and papers, then stood and crossed to Jenny’s side. Neatly written numbers on Jenny’s slate ended in the total: £1300/ 14s/ 5d. Thirteen hundred pounds, fourteen shillings, five pence. She tapped the slate with a talon.

“That’s an excellent amount, but hardly… overwhelming.” 

“That’s just the coins, ma’am. Haven’t really started on the notes. Pulled out a handful, and stopped at a thousand pounds.” Jenny pointed to a stack of notes in the centre of the table. A small stack. It was what she’d been staring at. “It’s going to take all day tomorrow to get through that box,” said Jenny.

Vastra cocked her head in surprise. If she took the value of the small stack of notes as a sample, and compared the volume of the stack with that of the large box…

Goddess! That promised to be a considerable amount of money!

No wonder Jenny was stunned. Clearly a rest was needed.

“Time for bed. This can wait until morning.” Vastra ordered.

Jenny just shook her head as she moved to the bed. She’d be lucky if she wasn’t counting shillings in her sleep all night. What on earth would they ever be able to do with all that money?

Someone was going to miss it. Someone was going to be livid with rage. 

Worse, Jenny knew in her guts that ‘Someone’ was going to come looking for it.

*** 

Dawn and cooing pigeons dragged Jenny from a restless half-sleep. After a poor night’s kip, dreaming of unseen things chasing her in dark tunnels, it was a blessing to wake up.

A blessing which quickly felt like a curse, as Jenny rolled over, and saw the stacks of coins on the table. 

‘Oh Lord, this is real!’ Jenny thought. 

This wasn’t a game anymore, the two of them acting like big children, planning to be like Robin Hood. 

They’d robbed a bank. A real bank. Of real money.

As of now, they were bank robbers. Criminals.

Jenny felt sick.

What in God’s name would her poor dead mother ever think of her?

***

Jenny was able to avoid immediately worrying about her new career as it was Sunday morning, and time to clean the Gin Palace. She had no intention of quitting her job; she liked the work and this morning she needed the chance to not think too much. Once the cleaning was done though, she had to face the problem head on, as it was time to count the notes.

A random search through the box produced only notes that were denominated in pounds. So Vastra decided she could help count. She sorted the notes into stacks on the bed by number of pounds, and handed Jenny the stacks to record. By the time they finish counting, they had 376,420 pounds in notes ranging from five to a thousand pounds.

Vastra was extremely concerned that Jenny was going to go into shock; she was shaking so much by the time they were done. The money meant little to Vastra; it was an Ape invention, and to her it only meant that they might have nicer quarters, and some new books; Jenny could have better clothes and both could have good food. But she could appreciate that to a girl who thought six shillings a week cleaning the Gin Palace has a huge raise over the three shillings she’d earned at the match factory; and who had been sold as a whore by her father for the equivalent of twelve shillings, it was an insane sum.

Vastra took the shaking girl up to the roof. Drawing on her experience with her people’s young cadets, Vastra made sure to assign only calming, repetitive exercises that Jenny had done before, letting the familiarity soothe the girl. Very soon, Jenny pulled herself together and was ready to talk about the situation.

After the workout, they sat on the roof for a time in the sunshine. Vastra glanced over at Jenny, who was flicking her fingers back and forth. It took a moment for Vastra to realize that she was counting in her head. 

Finally Vastra simply asked, "What's wrong?"

“What are we going to do with all that money, ma’am?” 

Ah. This Vastra could understand. “First and foremost? Keep it away from the Scorpions. Even if we never spend a penny of it, we will hurt them. And we will keep hurting them.”

“All right. That’s good with me.” However Jenny still seemed worried.

“Jenny, is what bothers you the fact that we have broken A… your peoples laws, or that we will… profit I believe is the word; that we will profit from it?

“Mostly that we’re now criminals. You know that, right? We get caught, and it’s jail for both of us for a long time.”

“Even though we stole those who are themselves criminals?”

“Law won’t care. And we didn’t steal from criminals; we robbed a bank. I understand what you mean, but we took other people’s money too, you see.”

“Hmmm. I do see. I had not considered that our actions would adversely affect others. Well, we also have the different sets of records: the ledgers and the like. Let us go and have a look, and see if we can reassure you.”

***

The first order of business when they returned to the flat was to put away the cash and notes. Vastra was worried that the mere sight of them would remind Jenny of the possibility of Jail. Vastra had never seen inside one, but their reputation was such that she could understand why Jenny would prefer to avoid that fate. Vastra secured the money, and put it under the bed for now, hoping that the sheer unlikelihood that they had anything worth stealing would help protect it. Jenny went to make sure they hadn’t tracked tell-tale dirt all over the hallways, and to fetch water. 

When they were done, Vastra surveyed the neatly made bed and tidied room from several angles, making sure nothing of their adventures was visible. Jenny had rinsed their clothes, getting rid of the sewer dirt, and the window was open to air out any lingering smell. Vastra nodded approvingly.

“Excellent. Now about these ledgers. I’ve identified the names of some of the Scorpions. Can you look at their accounts, and calculate their holdings? I’d like to know if we have deprived them of sufficient funds.”

“Not much of a book-keeper, ma’am. Ma only had me help with the household accounts, and we only dealt with pennies and shillings. But let me see what I can do. Will take a while though.”

***

Jenny worked for some time, looking back and forth between the ledgers and the day books. She was able to sort out one man’s records, including identifying that he’d had a Safe Deposit Box. She wasn’t sure what that was, and she couldn’t match any of the deposits to it, so she added it in pencil to her notes. The man had money on deposit in his name, but he also seemed to have several company accounts. Jenny duly noted the most recent balance for each account that she could find. The amounts were larger than she’d ever seen, and the writing, though very clear, was still hard for her to understand. Still, Madame had asked her to try, so she’d do her best. If this was a Scorpion, he owed her for all the trouble he’d caused. But she’d be the first to admit that she was in over her head. 

“I still got thirteen other names to check, ma’am.” Jenny said a few hours later. “This was going to take some time. Won’t be done today.” 

Vastra simply nodded and refrained from pointing out that while she was certainly better at higher mathematics, Jenny seemed to be better at keeping track of the flow of money. Vastra had looked over one of the ledgers, and could only barely follow it. She was occupying herself by reviewing some of Jenny’s old notes about Vastra’s investigations, and was leafing through her oldest notes in her tattered copybook. 

On a whim, Vastra hunted up the first half of the book, where Jenny had kept her school notes. Jenny’s father had torn the book in two along its spine, but Jenny had brought both parts with her when they recovered her belongings from her old flat. The front half was filled with slowly improving childish printing, with a smattering of notes about simple arithmetic, measurements and distances, and no doubt other useful things for a young Ape to remember. Vastra glanced at the inside of the front cover, and took a moment to admire some beautiful clear writing. It was the only sample in the book: a short list marked FLINT, followed by names and dates. Four names, three dates. Jenny’s name was at the top, followed by John, Anne and Francis/Frances. The last name had no date. Vastra wondered what it meant, and why part of the date by Jenny's name seemed familiar. She looked up to ask Jenny, but the girl was hard at work, and Vastra thought it better not to break her concentration. Obviously though, Jenny had not written this, and Vastra was curious as to whose writing it was.

After checking two more names over several hours, Jenny declared herself done for the day, as her eyes were crossing. Mrs Brown stopped by for the rent, and Vastra then took Jenny down to the street, and they spent the rest of Sunday watching the Apes of London go by.

***

Vastra spent the next few days scouting Sherwin and Somes on Paternoster Row. She liked the area; there were a number of bookstores, and publishers, and the area was quiet in the evenings. Vastra noticed that the very large building nearby was very busy on Sundays, and quiet the rest of the week. The bank itself wasn’t very large, and was tucked into the corner at Canon Alley. Mr Dawes had likely returned the ledgers and day books by now. From what Vastra had seen, she doubted that the banks could be without them for long.

They’d raid on Sunday night this time, Vastra decided. She didn’t want poor Jenny cleaning the Gin Palace the next morning after working all night again. And no counting the same night as the raid! She’d learned those lessons at least!

***

Late on Friday morning, Jenny glanced up from her cleaning, checking what still needed to be done. From the corner of her eye saw movement across the street. Something about it struck her as out of place. She pretended to ignore it, continuing to work. She was almost finished, and had time to think a moment as she looked around. 

There’d been a rainy day last week, one of several recently. Madame Vastra had decided that self-defence theory was a good way to spend training time. What had she said? 

Right: When you want to be sneaky (‘inconspicuous’ was the word Madame used, but Jenny understood her meaning) don’t look directly at the target if you can help it. It will alert them that you’ve seen them. Jenny did her finishing-up, meanwhile she kept her target in sight by glancing across it from time to time, seemingly looking elsewhere. After a minute or two she was able to identify it. ‘That’s the young bully boy from the other day,’ she thought. 

Was the youth casing the Gin Palace for a future robbery? Was he looking for Mr Thackeray? Or for Madame Vastra? Or even, as unlikely as it seemed, Jenny herself?

Was he here because of the Mr Thackeray and the ledgers? Maybe they’d seen him there in the evenings. But why come looking for him during the day?

Or was he here because of the bank robbery? 

And if the youth was across the street…

Where in hell was his old man? 

Jenny took a deep breath, her heart starting to pound. Madame Vastra was away, tracking the senior Scorpions and probing the banks; not near enough to help her. If the big thug was ‘round back, she was in trouble. She’d be caught between the two of them, one in the back, and one in the front. They might not know that Vastra wasn’t there, and they could do a lot of damage tearing the place apart looking for her.

Jenny glanced at the clock. It was just before noon. Madame Vastra wouldn’t be back for a few more hours.

What had Madame told her about a situation like this?

Right: Form a plan. Don’t get trapped.

Jenny had her broom, a decent weapon in a pinch. She knew the building. Should she go up to the flat? No, too easy to trap her; there was only one set of stairs, although her knife was there. A good defensive position if one had a ranged weapon, (such as a bloody long tongue) Vastra had said, but no good for a girl with a knife. Down into the basement? Same problem, and no knife. Into Mrs Brown’s office or the kitchen? No, don’t drag the ever-soused landlady into this. And there was no escape from there anyway; she’d still be trapped.

Go out the front? She knew she might be able to beat the bully boy again; ‘though he’d be on his guard this time, he was still a weak spot. Or was he bait?

Worse, Madame had warned her that since Jenny had beaten the boy once, he'd have something to prove. He'd be more violent this time.

Damn. 

More like they wouldn’t think she was that bright or that well-trained, that she’d see him as a weakness. Or see him at all for that matter.

Hmmm.

Was the back door bolted? It was strong, designed to guard against the local boys who fancied a drink in the night without having to pay for it. It would hold the adult off for a more than a few minutes. Since Vastra wasn’t out back, Jenny was fairly sure that it was closed and locked. Good. That would slow the man down.

If she went out back, she could face him directly, and scream bloody murder at finding him in the back. That might keep him from busting up the Gin Palace to get to her. But she’d be fighting an adult half-again her size. 

Out front, into the street, was still the best plan. If needed. Jenny listened carefully, and warily moved closer to the door.

Jenny wished she could just disappear and be done with it.

Wait a moment… Could she disappear? 

If she walked out front, moving quickly…

Could she reach somewhere safe? Where was safe?

And then Jenny grinned. She could reach one of the safest buildings in all of England. In under ten minutes if she walked. In less if she ran. 

Well, Mr Dawes wanted a message if they saw the thugs. He never said how the message should be delivered….

‘Course, she’d need to get past the bully boy first.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to any bagpipers and fellow members of the Scots diaspora reading this chapter. You already know why. Vastra doesn’t know any better. Yet.
> 
> Vastra‘s early history in the London Tunnels is from **The Brilliant Book 2012** again. The book mentions that Vastra “…tunnels into bank vaults using a previously unknown method….” 
> 
> In the mid 19th Century, the River Thames was an open sewer, with disastrous consequences for public health in London, including cholera epidemics, resulting in thousands of deaths because of raw sewage getting into the drinking water. After the Great Stink of 1858, Parliament realised the need for a modern sewerage system. The Chief Engineer of the Metropolitan Board of Works, Joseph Bazalgette, designed an extensive underground system that diverted waste to the Thames Estuary, downstream of the main population of London. Six main interceptor sewers, totalling almost 100 miles (160 km) in length, were constructed, some incorporating stretches of London's 'lost' rivers. Three of these sewers were north of the river, the southernmost, low-level one being incorporated in the Thames Embankment. The intercepting sewers, constructed between 1859 and 1865, were fed by 450 miles (720 km) of main sewers that, in turn, conveyed the contents of some 13,000 miles (21,000 km) of smaller local sewers. Much of the original brickwork survives to this day. Remember, the majority of that construction was done by hand. 
> 
> There was no law against women dressing as men in 19th Century England. The few court cases I’ve read always seem to come about from something else (causing a disturbance, beating the girlfriend, robbery, etc.) at which point the man was ‘discovered’ to be a woman (whom it tended to be assumed was dressed as a male for economic reasons.) A man dressing as a woman was considered far more serious, as it was assumed that this was solely for sexual purposes, and was more actively prosecuted. 
> 
> The United Kingdom finally moved to a decimal system of coinage in 1971. If one was a very young tourist that summer, when prices were in a mix of decimal and old system, it was very confusing. Trust me on this.


	4. Turning Tables, The Police get Involved and the Raids Continue.

Jenny remembered something Madame Vastra had told her. ‘Be Bold. Look strong, even if you don’t feel it. You don’t cower, and that is very good. If you look weak you’re more likely to be attacked.’ Jenny took a deep breath, let it out, and went to the front door. Time to go and face the young tough. If he wanted a fight, she’d give him one.

There was just one problem. She didn’t want to turn around while she locked the door, but she’d need to look back to put the key in the lock. She took a moment to think. Unless… yes that should work. 

Jenny opened the front door of the Gin Palace, inserted her key in the keyhole while the door was open, and then boldly walked through. She pulled the door shut behind her, still facing the street. She fumbled a bit, trying to find the key behind her back without looking, but finally grabbed it, twisted the key and heard the latch click home, while she casually glanced up and down the street. Done, and she didn’t need to turn her back to the bully boy. Madame Vastra would be pleased. Jenny decided she’d practice that move again later, until it looked nice and natural.

With a passing glance she saw the youth was startled, but she ignored him. She started off at a fast walk east on Cheapside, heading towards Threadneedle Street.

A block behind her, she could hear the bells of St. Mary Le Bow Church start ringing Noon. Perfect. She’d just need another minute or so. She moved briskly, but didn’t run. Not yet. 

Jenny kept moving, listening behind her, watching ahead. The street began to fill up quickly, as the local sewing factories and other concerns emptied out for lunch break. Jenny’s old workplace, the match factory, had done this too. The workers were turned out into the street for an hour each day to air out the workrooms. It could be annoying to the workers in poor weather, but today the lunch time crowd might make it possible for Jenny to disappear in plain sight. Lots of adults made for more cover to hide behind, but she’d stand out like a sore thumb if she ran. She dodged a little between people, trying to keep clumps of them behind her. She made it across King Street, and Old Jewry. Cheapside narrowed into Poultry here, but it was only a few short blocks to the hub where seven streets ran together at Mansion House, including Threadneedle Street. The Bank of England wasn’t far.

Suddenly, behind her she heard a young man shout. “Stop, Thief! Stop that girl.” Bloody bastard, calling her a thief!

Oh wait… he was right. Hopefully he just didn’t know it.

Jenny kept moving at the same pace. ‘Don’t panic. Look around; act confused, like it’s not you he’s shouting at.’ She’d learned some interesting lessons in the two months she’d lived on the streets, and now was a good time to use them.

At the corner of Poultry and Mansion House Street her luck ran out. A police constable appeared in front of her, and as Jenny moved around him, he caught her shoulder.

“What’s all this then?”

“Here, let me go! I’m on an errand for my mistress!”

“Heard someone call ‘Stop that girl.’”

“There’s lots of girls here! Whoever it was said ‘Stop thief’ too. I haven’t nicked anything!” Well, not today, thought Jenny.

“You’re the one who looks like a ruffian.” Jenny realized that she was still dressed in the worn old things she wore for cleaning the Gin Palace. These were the rags she was wearing when Madame rescued her; they still had some use in them. But blast! She must look a sight!

The constable looked over her head, back into the swirling crowd. Jenny risked a glance back as well, and saw the youth hanging back, suddenly wary of the constable.

Why? Oh, right! If someone else had grabbed her, he’d have made up a story, but a real policeman? 

Jenny could finger him for trying to rob Mr Thackeray!

Hmmm. 

But if she tried that now, before he put himself forward as the one who called out, it would be his word against hers. And she didn’t trust the constable to decide in favour of an untidy young maid. Stick near the truth.

“I’m going to the Bank to deliver a message,” explained Jenny, nodding at the building, so near and yet so far away. “Madame Vastra wanted it done right quick, I couldn’t even change! Come with me if you want, won’t take long. Just need to see the Manager or the Director.”

The constable surveyed the street again, and then nodded. “Think I’ll do just that. And if you’re telling tales, it’ll be the worse for you!”

‘Lovely,’ thought Jenny. ‘Why do I always get the grouchy constables?’

***

Mr Dawes looked up as the porter ushered a scruffy young girl and a police constable into his office. He blinked in surprise as the girl dropped an awkward curtsey and he recognized Madame Vastra’s maid.

“Good afternoon Mr Dawes. Sorry to present meself all in my dirt.”

“Hello Jenny. Nice to see you again. Who’s your new friend?” Dawes flicked his gaze at the constable, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

“Not sure, sir. We haven’t been properly introduced yet. He sort of followed me here.”

“I’m Constable Palmer of the London Police, sir. I apprehended this girl in the street outside, sir. Someone called for me to stop the thief. But the girl said she hadn’t stolen anything, and had a message for you from her mistress, sir.”

Dawes looked back at Jenny, who explained that she’d seen the youth who’d tried rob Mr Thackeray while cleaning, was worried about the location of his partner, and had decided to make use of the lunchtime crowd to nip over to the bank, and let Mr Dawes know she’d seen them as he’d asked, if you please sir. Dawes soon understood that Jenny guessed the youth had raised the hue and cry to try to get hold of her.

Dawes nodded in satisfaction; Jenny was still in her working clothes and flustered by her ordeal. That explained her untidy appearance. She’d been lucky to make it this far with the toughs on the hunt for her. 

“I didn’t see any such persons, sir.” interjected the constable. 

Dawes eyed him for a long moment, until the man started to squirm slightly. “Did you know who to look for, Constable?” 

“No sir, I was…”

“…Busy apprehending an innocent girl. Did you ask who might be accusing her?”

“No sir.”

“Well then, you could not have seen them. So let us go have a look for them. Now.”

Dawes rose from behind his desk, and led them to the massive balcony overlooking the front entrance. Jenny surveyed the busy intersection below, and soon exclaimed, “There sir! By the statue of Wellington, the young man with fair hair, blue jacket and cap; and the tall man beside him with the battered top hat and brown coat.”

Dawes nodded, and glanced at the constable. “Perhaps you should go and have a closer look? In case you need to recognize them in the future.” His voice, though not harsh or raised at all, made it clear that he was not simply making a friendly suggestion. Rupert Dawes was the man who commanded the Bank of England, from the lowest messenger boy to the powerful men of the Board of Directors. Only the Governor and Deputy Governor were senior to Dawes. Police constables simply weren’t in the same league. 

Unsurprisingly, the constable gave a crisp nod, and left.

Dawes waited with Jenny and watched. He was slightly surprised to see that Jenny had stepped back from the rail, and was now watching the men through the slats in the railing. He realized she could still see the men, but they would have a hard time seeing her. Interesting. Was this natural canniness, wondered Dawes, or was this learned behaviour? And if it was the latter, how had the young girl learned it? 

***

Several minutes later, Constable Palmer strolled around the east corner of the Bank from Bartholomew Lane onto Threadneedle Street. Dawes had to give him credit; the man was acting like a police officer on patrol; interested and observing but not barrelling towards the toughs and scarring them off. Palmer must have gone out of the bank through the eastern entrance. While the two toughs soon spotted him, they couldn’t tell that he was the same policeman they’d watched go into the Bank earlier. Palmer was able to spend some time in the area and left before the two men became spooked. He’d approached them fairly closely, and Dawes hoped he’d had a good look at them.

Jenny glanced over at Mr Dawes as Constable Palmer left the street. “Best I get back, sir, if you please. Is there another door I could take?”

“There is.” He summoned a nearby clerk, and directed him to take Jenny down to the Prince’s Street entrance on the west side of the building so she wouldn’t need to cross in front of the toughs while returning home. Jenny gave him another curtsey, thanked him for his help, and departed. Dawes smiled; it had been a near run, but the girl had done the smart thing, coming to the bank, and letting him know that the men who’d tried to steal the Sherwin and Soames ledgers were around. Those ledgers still bothered him, and he’d cautioned the manager at Sherwin’s to be vigilant about getting to the bottom of the matter. Records were ending up in the day books and ledgers that the Manager said weren’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on who was creating the entries. The amounts weren’t large, but they were frequent. Worse, it was difficult to sort out which entries were real, and which incorrect. They’d only found the problem when a customer brought in his passbook for updating.

Dawes shook his head. In the meanwhile, the robbery at Wilmott’s was worrying. Their ledgers had been stolen, along with cash and notes, and while the bank would be able to operate quietly for few weeks as long as word didn’t leak out and create a run on the bank, they needed those books back! Dawes wished they had some idea if the two incidents were connected. Toughs after one set of ledgers and thieves who took another was far too close a coincidence for his liking.

Dawes shook his head, and picked up his pen. First things first: it was time to ask the police to keep a watchful eye on the Gin Palace. He’d be unhappy to see Jenny or Madame Vastra hurt over this mess. 

*** 

Jenny left the bank, and followed Prince’s Street back to Threadneedle. Peeking around the corner, she saw the two toughs watching the main entrance of the bank from the statue of Wellington. They looked bored and restless. Jenny watched for a moment. If they got fed up, maybe they’d leave. And if she followed them, maybe she could learn who’d sent them to beat up poor Mr Thackeray.

Keeping her face turned away, Jenny crossed the streets, circling around until she got to the Mansion House, behind the men. She bought a paper from a newsboy, and an apple from a costermonger, leaned on the fence at the mouth of the alley beside the Mansion House, and settled in to wait. Between eating the apple and glancing at the newspaper, she’d be able to keep her face hid from any casual look from the toughs. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t need to wait too long. 

***

Sure enough, within about twenty minutes, judging by the church bells, the man and youth gave up. After a bit of arguing, they headed east along Cornhill, just south of the Royal Exchange. Jenny followed them, amused that she’d turned the tables and was now stalking them, but when they reached the crossroads where Cornhill turned into Leadenhall Street, she hesitated. 

Madame had said not to go past here, where Bishopsgate to the north and Grace Church to the south ran together, but the men were still walking east. Jenny restlessly paced back and forth a few moments trying to choose. Go back? Stay here? Blast!. 

Finally, as the men were almost out of sight, Jenny threw caution to the wind and followed them. She’d catch it when she got back to the flat, but with luck she’d have enough details to be worth it. Madame hadn’t really lost her temper yet. Maybe Vastra wouldn’t hit her too bad for breaking her word.

*** 

Jenny followed the pair for almost half an hour, to a run-down building near New Shadwell Basin, tucked in just behind St. George in the East church. Her Da had worked at all the docks near here, so she knew the area a little from running errands. Her work clothes were a godsend here, the worn and patched cloth allowing her to blend into with the workers and poor folks in the streets. ‘Course she also ran the risk of being spotted by her Da, if he wandered this way. On t’other hand though the Scorpions were likely still hoping to catch her, it had been weeks since she was last in the area. Maybe they’d stopped looking very hard. 

The building had a rickety staircase outside, leading to the first floor above street level, and the men took that. Jenny thought about her notes, and was sure she remembered Madame Vastra mentioning the place. 

From where she watched, Jenny could also see a steep set of stairs heading below ground level. From time to time, some poor wretch would stumble up or down the stairs, and a haze of brown smoke would appear when the door was opened.

“An Opium Den!” whispered Jenny.

She’d heard rumours that the Scorpions owned this den. Madame Vastra mostly likely hadn’t recognized the smoke. Didn’t seem like her cup of tea, and she wouldn’t have heard the stories that Jenny had while on the streets. But the man and boy didn’t act like opium eaters; Jenny guessed that they may be meeting someone. 

She decided to head back to the Gin Palace, report to Madame and take her lumps. The longer she stayed in the area, the greater the chance of being caught.

***

Madame Vastra was just returning to the flat as Jenny arrived, and heard her story in thunderous silence. “Do I understand that you deliberately disobeyed my instructions?”

Jenny’s only reply was a quiet, “Yes ma’am.”

“Remain here,” Madame commanded, “and Do Not leave this room. We will discuss this in detail when I return.” She hurried from the flat, and Jenny was left to wait.

Jenny sighed. That had gone better than she’d hoped. But she had no doubt that she’d be right sore by the end of the night. She decided that she’d best spend the time updating her notes and practicing her knife work. And maybe seeing about cooking something for dinner, as she’d missed lunch except for the apple.

***

Vastra returned late in the afternoon. She took the only chair in the flat, and seated herself with stern formality. She then bent an unyielding gaze at Jenny, who glanced briefly at the spot on the bed where she often sat for lessons, then straightened her back, head and eyes up and forward. 

“Start from the beginning.” Vastra said in a low, even voice. “Tell me what happened today, and explain your reasons for your actions.” She let Jenny re-tell the tale, from seeing the young tough outside the Gin Palace, and creating a plan, through the visit to Mr Dawes with Constable Palmer, and then tracking the toughs to the house on New Court, including her open acknowledgement that she’d chosen to go against Vastra’s instructions, as she’d hoped that what she learned would outweigh her punishment. 

And now that word was out in the open. Vastra could see Jenny bracing herself, and realized that Jenny was expecting a beating for her disobedience.

The thought did nothing to improve Vastra’s opinion of humans. She scowled at Jenny, hating to be lumped in with such barbarism, but understanding the hatchling’s fears.

“You understand you broke your promise to me?”

“Yes ma’am”

“And you understand that you will be punished for that?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Vastra cocked her head. “You’re taking this rather calmly.” 

“Ma use to say: ‘Take a telling when you’re told.’” Jenny shrugged. “I knew what I was doing. I’m not going to be a little baby and try to whinge my way out of it.”

Vastra frowned. "I'm not your mother."

"No Ma'am. You are a lady, and you are a lizard, and you are definitely NOT my mother."

Vastra couldn’t quite decide if she should be flattered, insulted or relieved.

***

Jenny listened carefully to Madame Vastra, and told her story honestly. Just as she'd felt the morning after she'd been rescued, Madame’s eyes although scolding were calming and strangely familiar. Not ‘familiar’ as in Jenny had known her for the last three months, but rather with a bone-deep knowledge that here was refuge and strangely…warmth, despite all evidence that Madame Vastra was anything but safe or warm. But Jenny was damned if she could remember why she felt that way.

Jenny shook her head slightly, clearing her confusing thoughts, and continued. “When I followed those toughs, I had to choose. Knew it might be dangerous. But ma’am, we’ve robbed a bank, and will rob another two nights from now. You can’t tell me that’s safer than what I did today?”

“No, I can not. What is your point?”

“Point is, ma’am,” Jenny continued gently, “You can’t protect me forever. The toughs were going somewhere, and one of us had to follow them. This time, that was me.”

“But I can protect you for now. IF you keep your word.” Vastra eyed Jenny sternly. “Very well. You made your choice to obtain information in exchange for accepting a penalty. What would your family decree as punishment for breaking a promise if you were still living at home?”

Da would box my ears, thought Jenny. No doubt about that. But then it would be over and done. Ma however, would do worse:

“Take away things I like for a while. So stay in the room tonight, no going downstairs and enjoying the evening breeze. Work on the mending or cleaning…” Jenny glanced at the hob, where a small pot of pigeon stew was simmering, and sighed, “…no supper. And no lesson.” And let me know she was damn disappointed in me. That always hurts the worst. 

Madame nodded. “Very well. No supper. Work on your chores. Stay in the room until bedtime.” Then she smirked slightly, “However unless you choose to withdraw forever, your lesson is not optional. I’ll try to think of something suitably gruelling.” 

“Now,” continued Madame Vastra, “I’ll tell you what happened after I left. Get your notebook and pen. Then sit.” 

In that moment, Jenny knew that Madame understood WHY Jenny has chosen as she did. And for that, Jenny would take any punishment she decreed.

***

Vastra admitted to herself that Jenny’s gamble had paid off; she now had a very interesting piece of information. 

“I returned to the building where you’d left the men, found a quiet spot nearby, and waited. We were in luck, the man and youth eventually emerged, followed shortly by another. They were meeting with the senior Chinese Scorpion.”

Jenny frowned, and asked, “Wait a moment. Why would one Scorpion be interested in the ledgers of a bank the other Scorpions use? He doesn’t bank there, does he? And what were they doing near the Gin Palace at all? They seemed interested in me, but I’m not important.”

Vastra smiled. “Excellent questions. We seem to now have another mystery on our hands. They may have recognized you from a description of their missing girl. Or they may have wanted to see if you met Mr Thackeray. In any case, review your notes this evening while you are confined to quarters. When we raid Sherwin and Soames on Sunday, I want to have a solid list of names and information that we are looking for in addition to simply taking money.” 

***

There followed a particularly punishing training session on the roof that included a number of kneeling lunge strikes. Madame demonstrated: start from a kneeling position, one knee up, the other on the floor, rise, step forward while cutting left to right and kneel, other foot forward. Repeat with an overhead cut. Repeat the two movements across the length of the roof in the fading light, over and over again.

Vastra left a tired and sore Jenny in the flat, and took the bowl of pigeon stew down to the area behind the Gin Palace. Vastra wasn’t sure what to do with it, it seemed wrong to simply throw it out. She decided to try eating it; it smelled acceptable, she liked pigeon, and Jenny certainly seemed to enjoy the stew. She tried a few bites; it wasn’t bad. Too many vegetables and far less meat than she would have liked, but it had potential. It was a rather interesting change from raw bird.

“Good evening, Madame Vastra.”

Mr Thackeray walked out the back door of the Gin Palace, followed by two tall men. The first was a tall balding man with a slight moustache who stank from stale cigar smoke, and the other was a policeman who smelled of soap and polish. Vastra was instantly wary of both men. 

“Mr Thackeray, hello. I had not expected you this evening; you usually visit early in the week.” 

“You’re right of course, Madame. I came to see yourself and Miss Jenny.” 

“Regretfully Jenny is confined to our flat this evening. She went against my instructions, and is paying the penalty.”

“Ah, that’s a pity. I wanted to introduce both of you to your new guardians. Mr. Dawes arranged for the police to step in after Miss Jenny was followed today.” 

Vastra glanced over at the two men waiting nearby. The policeman was listening intently, and Vastra realized he was probably the same constable Jenny had met earlier. She did not want to encourage him to have a poor opinion of Jenny, as the girl might need allies in the future. “It was a minor infraction, and I would rather not inconvenience you. Remain here. I’ll bring her down.”

***

Vastra returned a few minutes later with a quiet and neatly dressed Jenny. Vastra had told her that she was being allowed out of the room for thirty minutes for the sole purpose of meeting the police, and to change so that men would not think poorly of her. So Jenny was on her best behaviour. 

Mr Thackeray introduced them both to Inspector Abernathy of Scotland Yard and Constable Palmer of the London Police. He explained that The Metropolitan and London police must co-operate on this case, as Thackeray himself lived outside the City of London proper, over in Belgravia by Victoria Station, and thus in the territory of the Metropolitan Police headquartered at Scotland Yard, while the Gin Palace and the Bank of England were both the jurisdiction of the London Police.

Abernathy was a talkative blustery sort with watery eyes, pale, slightly flabby, and Vastra soon suspected he would probably be overly fatty (although she did like smoked meat) and he might not be that bright. In contrast, Constable Palmer was quiet, tall with a narrow face, and intelligent brown eyes. Lean and possibly a bit tough meat wise, Vastra decided. He tended to watched Jenny closely, but the hatchling was quiet herself. 

***

As Inspector Abernathy was chattering away to Madame Vastra, Jenny approach Mr Thackeray and asked, “Sir. Could I have a word with you, please?”

“Yes Miss Jenny, what is it?”

Jenny led him off to the side, back near the pump, and waved him to a small bench. “Sir, ‘member you asked Madame Vastra to use your Christian name t’other day?” 

Thackeray nodded. 

“Sir, if you recall, she mentioned to you that she’s not been around here for a long time. I had to explain to her what you meant when you said that. She thinks of you as a friend, sir, honest she does. However, well, she’s had losses in her family sir, you see. And she’s not looking for new family, you see. Not now, and probably not for a long while. Didn’t want you to be… hoping for something that’s not to be, you see sir.”

“Miss Jenny, forgive me, but did Madame Vastra just give me the brush off through her maid?”

“Oh sir, that sounds bad. Honest, she’s just not… “

“I’m not familiar with your customs, Mr Thackeray, and Jenny volunteered to… I believe the term was … warn you off.” Madame Vastra emerged out of the shadows. Jenny winced, and gave Mr Thackeray a hangdog look. This was just not one of her better days.

“I do not make friends easily,” Madame continued, “and you are one of the few I have. But I am adamant on this. We would not suit each other, and I am not so hard hearted as to lead you on.”

Jenny glanced up at Madame Vastra, confused by her choice of words, and then realized that she using phrases from the novels she’d read. Madame was trying to be friendly but firm, instead of simply blunt. It wasn’t quite working, but it was a nice try. 

Thackeray sighed. “Well. I do understand, but please believe me, I am still quite willing to assist in any way I can.” He smiled, not really hurt, as he had never had the chance to raise his hopes too high. “It’s simply what friends do.”

***

On Sunday, Madame Vastra and Jenny slept most of the afternoon and early evening, and then reviewed the list of names they were interested in, and the general plan again. Sunday night was cloudy, and the moon had a heavy halo that meant rain soon. In fact, it was just starting to spit as they entered the tunnels. 

This time Vastra planned to stay longer if needed. If there was another record of Safe Deposit boxes, she’d find the records they wanted, and try and target those boxes as well. 

***

Getting into the vault at Sherwin and Soames was not a problem. Once again, Jenny remained in the tunnels keeping watch. 

After Vastra dragged a nice large bag of sovereigns and a box of bank notes near the tunnel for later retrieval, she dug around for the bank books. The Record of Safe Deposit was there, and Vastra scanned it and the little vaults in turn; matching numbers to the names they were interested in. 

As she found each one, she hammered at the lock to punch it through. The process was rather noisy, even with a cloth wrapped hammer and chisel. ‘If we’re going to keep doing this, one of us needs to learn a better way to open locks,’ she mused.

From each small vault she retrieved bundles of papers, and other items, dropping each into an envelope and marking on the number. She then chose three other boxes at random, broke them open and scattered the contents on the floor, to confuse the issue. Vastra wasn’t quite willing to give away that they were targeting Scorpions. 

“Hi! You there!” called Jenny.

Vastra tried not to smile. She’d told Jenny that they wouldn’t use each other’s names during the raids; no sense in giving themselves away to anyone who chanced to overhear them. But she’d forgotten that Jenny’s last ‘partners in crime’ had been a group of hatchlings playing in the street, and decorum was not a priority for them.

She looked into the mouth of the tunnel. “What is it?”

Jenny looked worried “The water in the tunnels is rising fast. Must be ‘cause of the rain.” 

Vastra dropped back into the tunnel and went to look. Sure enough, the water was blocking their path out. They needed to find another exit. She didn’t want to be trapped in the vault if it flooded!

“We’ll go back to the vault, open it and go out the front door,” said Vastra. “Remember what Mr Thackeray said; the vault doors are designed to keep people out, not in. That will also give us the chance to have a look at the bank’s offices for more information.” She very much hoped she could figure out how to open the door. Thackeray had said it would take some time!

“What about the guards?” asked Jenny. “Mr Thackeray took us by the guard room at the bank, remember? What if they’ve got some here?”

Vastra hesitated. If it was just her, a trained warrior against other warriors, it would be an honourable test of skill. However Jenny, no matter that she was an excellent student, was not a warrior. She glanced down at the girl, thinking about what she had learned watching the bank, and cursing her carelessness. 

She hadn’t ventured inside the building that she was investigating. The bank was rather small; there might not even be a guard room such as the Bank of England possessed. But it would have been no trouble to have wandered in, or even sent Jenny in to have a quick and quiet look. Now she lacked critical information. She was a fool!

Hopefully they wouldn’t drown or be killed for her stupidity!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From jtrforums.com (Jack the Ripper): “Victorian London's reputation as a center of opium smoking is quite unjustified and testifies to the power of literary fiction over historical fact. The London press, along with popular British authors of the day, were fond of portraying London's Limehouse district as an opium-drenched pit of danger and mystery. In fact [in the 1880’s and 90’s], London's Chinese population never exceeded the low hundreds. There are several accounts of people visiting opium dens but they all appear to be describing the same place which was a house in New Court, Shadwell. This was in the Bluegate Fields area of Gustave Dore and Oscar Wilde fame. The area was demolished in the early 1890s.” (The building mentioned isn’t in Limehouse, it’s further west, south of Whitechapel. Naturally, that’s the building that Jenny sees.) 
> 
> Inspector Abernathy vs. Inspector Abeline – What’s in a name? Inspector Abernathy in named in the Brilliant Book 2012 twice, once in connection with Vastra’s rampage when she was unearthed, and later in connection with The Masked Lady. So here he is. I imagine him to be the bumbling inspector from ‘Madame Vastra Investigates.’ 
> 
> In contrast, Inspector Abeline, who was mentioned in ‘A Good Man Goes To War’ really was the lead investigator into the Ripper murders in 1888. Abeline, despite various fictional attempts through the years to make him more ‘dramatic’, seems to have been a hard-working, reasonably competent, long-married inspector. He’ll probably show up in the Dragon’s Heart Series, Madame Vastra needs to see at least one intelligent inspector with the police.


	5. Breakout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakout – To Catch a Thief - Once more into the Breach - The Newspapers notice The Masked Lady - The Banks are Wising Up - Run Jenny Run.

Madame Vastra scowled, considering her options. “First, we’ll open the vault door. Then I will deal with any guards while you remain in here. You will only leave the vault without the ‘all clear’ from me if, and only if, the water starts to enter. Understood?” 

“Right ho!” Jenny nodded, obeying an earlier instruction to ‘forgo honorifics while in hostile territory.’

“Just ‘yes’ will do,” sighed Vastra.

While Vastra considered the rising water outside the mouth of the tunnel, Jenny nipped back towards to vault. Vastra turned and saw her stretching on her toes, looking into the vault, the tunnel in darkness as Jenny used the small lantern to see. The girl quickly returned and asked, “How long to dig out of here if you can’t open the door?”

“Too long, and we’d have the same problem if we dug back to the sewers.”

“Sorry, wasn’t clear what I meant: How long to dig under the floor, beneath the vault door, then up? Even just a crawl hole would do.” Jenny pointed to where the floor of the vault and the top of the access tunnel that Vastra had dug was visible, then off on the angle towards where the door was above. “It’s maybe five or six paces? You dig awful fast. Would that be easier and quicker than going through the door?”

Vastra thought carefully. She took a minute, levered herself back into the vault and examined the door. It wasn’t very large, just slightly bigger than the door to Vastra’s flat. Not like the huge vault doors in the Bank of England. 

Go through the door or under the floor? Time was passing, and the water was rising. If she started digging, she could be trapped by flooding. 

Vastra’s warrior training kicked in. Make a decision and live or die with the choice.

Vastra glanced at Jenny, whose masked face was now peeking out of the hole in the floor. 

‘And if she dies here with you, she’s had three more months’ life than if we’d never met.’ Somehow the thought wasn’t much comfort to Vastra. 

Vastra examined the door carefully. Although it was made of strong steel, the locking mechanism wasn’t very sophisticated. Vastra realized that it was probably a fairly old system, which had never been upgraded as the bank grew. Four strong thick metal poles attached to a central wheel. When the door was locked, the outer ends of the poles fit into deep, heavy sockets in the door frame. Turning the wheel retracted the poles from the sockets and allowed the door to open. Simple. The poles were protected from being cut by the simple fact that they were inside the vault, and normally any would-be thief would be outside trying to get in.

The problem was that when locked, the wheel was prevented from turning by a tumbler which was buried inside the door, and opened with a key. The keyhole went straight through; Vastra could see to faint shadows through the door. “What do we have that is inflammable or explosive?” she asked. 

After a moment of silence she looked back at Jenny, to see the girl gazing at her patiently, head slightly cocked. “What do we have that will burn or explode?” she tried again.

“Matches, the kerosene in the lamp and the wick, my ‘kerchief and lots of paper,” Jenny waved at the banknotes. “Maybe the coal gas from the lamps,” she pointed to a fixture near the door, and another further back in the vault.

Vastra eyed them for a long moment. Pity they didn’t have a way to contain the gas, it might have been useful. As for the rest; “Not enough,” said Vastra. “Not nearly enough strength to take out a lock of this size.”

“Do you use something to tunnel with? Would that help?”

Interesting idea, considered Vastra, looking back at the door. Ape steel in this time was mostly iron and carbon; could she bio-manipulate it with the small device she concealed in the same way she moved the earth and bricks of the sewers? 

Jenny continued, “Guess your tongue won’t fit? Maybe use it to turn the lock?”

“Absolutely not! One of the first lessons our hatchlings are taught is not to stick one’s tongue into strange holes.” Vastra heard a sound behind her and turned. Jenny had her hand over her mouth and seemed to be trying to choke herself.

“Now what?” asked Vastra.

“Yer such an innocent sometimes,” the dockworker’s daughter replied with a sheepish grin. “Yer right, shouldn’t have asked. Never mind.” 

Vastra realized that the little monkey had been trying not to laugh, and felt annoyed. There was nothing funny here, what she’d said was merely common sense! “Mind in the Now, please!” she growled.

“Right!”

Vastra collected Jenny's matches and handkerchief, which she soaked in kerosene from the lamp. She used her bio-manipulation device to remove the heads of the rivets holding the locking poles to the central wheel, and blackened the ends with lampblack from the lantern wick. Then she simply pulled the locking poles out of their sockets, and opened the vault door slightly. Finally she stuffed the keyhole with handkerchief and a few matches, and lit it with another match so that is left burn marks on the door. After dropping the blacked rivets on the floor, one at a good distance from the door, she smirked at her work. 

"Let’s see how long it takes the police to sort out what really happened. " said Vastra. A scrabbling noise from behind interrupted her musing.

She turned to see Jenny trying to get out of the hole, clawing at the smooth floor of the vault. "There's water coming in!" Jenny yelled.

Vastra grabbed Jenny by the back of her jacket, and hauled her out of the hole. Behind the girl she could see water swirling into the tunnel in small waves. Even as she watched, a larger gush entered the tunnel, filling it about a third full. ‘Fortunate timing’ she thought, and wondered idly if her pet could swim.

***

Madame Vastra’s quick exploration of the area outside the vault didn’t turn up a guard, ‘though she said she could smell sweat in the air. The vault turned out to be in the basement of the building. They cautiously moved into the bank. Madame led the way, carrying a mixed quantity of gold and banknotes. Jenny carried a smaller packet of banknotes, some gold and a packet of coins, which included several pounds worth of shillings. She thought they’d be easier for her to spend in the markets than the sovereigns. More in keeping with what a maid would have as spending money.

They left their loot by the front door. Vastra listened carefully, but couldn’t hear anyone else in the bank. If there was a guard, he was hiding. 

She motioned to Jenny to follow her and they quickly searched the main floor, found the ledgers and day books and added them to the pile. 

Madame Vastra made a motion to Jenny that was likely ‘wait here’ (‘tho Jenny thought it looked rather like ‘sit’ and ‘stay’) and eased into the darkness.

***

Leaving Jenny to guard their collection, Vastra cautiously climbed the stairs to the second floor. There were several small rooms with large and small desks, and tall sets of drawers. 

Exploring these she uncovered more documents that looked interesting, and took them. At one point she thought she heard someone in a nearby room, but a quick check revealed no one, and Vastra decided that the night watchman might truly be hiding from them. She hurried back to Jenny; she’d gathered enough information, there was no need to risk the small human being attacked while Vastra lingered elsewhere.

It turned out that Jenny had been busy; she’d found a key for the door and everything they’d taken was neatly bundled and ready to go. Vastra was amused and pleased: the girl continued to surprise her.

They let themselves out the front door, and then Jenny turned, locked up behind them, and slipped the key under the front mat. Vastra simply shook her head; sometimes Jenny’s behaviour was very, very strange.

Vastra led them away from the route straight home; she expected that the night watchman would be watching from an upper window, and noting their movements. Instead they went north through the Queen’s Head passage, then made their way east through the back alleys and lanes, to the gin palace and their flat.

***

On Monday Jenny’s sums showed that they’d collected over 425,000 pounds in coins and notes. The other items they’d taken were also interesting; the safe deposit boxes especially yielded a number of pieces of paper with the words ‘stock’ and ‘principal stock.’ These were unfamiliar to both of them. 

Vastra decided to take the opportunity to teach Jenny something new. They sorted the notes, first by the ‘Company’ name number of ‘shares’ on each note and wrote down the information, and then by the name of the Scorpions who owned the notes, and wrote that down. Then Vastra showed Jenny how to record the information as various types of graphs on her slate, so they could see patterns. Jenny was so fascinated by the idea that she bought a small, cheap set of watercolors while she was running errands later. Vastra found her later that evening putting the finishing touches on a set of coloured graphs in her notebook, ‘in case we need ‘em later.’ Vastra praised her initiative, then bundled up the stock notes and put them aside.

The papers all referred to ‘transferred in the company books’ and Vastra suspected that having the ‘stock’ itself might mean little, as each piece bore a name. The ‘company books’ however might be a useful prize. If they could ascertain where they were, and make them disappear, perhaps it would be troublesome for their enemies.

***

On Tuesday, James Thackeray and Inspector Abernathy found Madame Vastra and Jenny sitting behind the Gin Palace, enjoying the evening breeze. 

They chatted a bit, and Jenny told the Inspector she hadn’t seen the two toughs since Friday. However she’d seen Constable Palmer several times in the area, sometimes alone, sometimes with another constable.

“That’s almost a pity. Sherwin and Soames on Paternoster Row was robbed on Sunday night. Scotland Yard has an excellent set of leads on the robbers though! I’m personally leading the investigation, and I certainly want to talk with those two. But even without that, I’ll have them soon enough.”

“Oh?” asked Jenny. She glanced up at Madame Vastra, who was sitting very still. Jenny could see that she was ready for action if needed.

“Absolutely! They made off with a tremendous sum of gold and notes, and took the ledgers. That almost certainly points to your two would be thieves! The same ledgers they were after, suddenly disappear? Almost too easy! I’d be surprised if you saw them again, now that they have what they wanted.” Inspector Abernathy leaned back on the bench, rested against the wall and spread his legs out straight, pleased to have an attentive audience. “Don’t worry though, we’ll catch them the same way we always do.” He grinned. “Most criminals of that sort have no sense. They’ll start spending the money like water, and since they probably don’t have much to begin with, it’ll stand out like a beacon. After that, it’s just a matter of time ‘till someone notices, and turns them in for the reward.”

“Reward, sir?” said Jenny. 

“Of course! They’ve robbed two banks! The reward is a hundred pounds for these criminals.” 

“Goodness!” exclaimed Jenny. 

Jenny suddenly felt the weight of the shillings in her pocket. ‘Might be best to stick just buying fresh food for now,’ she decided, ‘and maybe another notebook. Better keep up the haggling too. Don’t stick out. Can’t be too careful.’ 

Madame Vastra listened to Inspector Abernathy spouting off, and could see that Jenny was listening intently. Vastra was amused: obviously while James was very nice, and quite intelligent, if Inspector Abernathy was any indicator of the quality of Scotland Yard, they truly needed help!

And speaking of James… Thackeray turned to her and quietly asked, “Madame, is the matter you previously mentioned progressing smoothly?” Vastra assured him that it was.

“I know it is perhaps rather forward of me, but when the matter is resolved, by chance will you be looking for accommodations more in keeping with your station? If so, I would be pleased to refer you to some excellent estate agents.”

Vastra made a note to ask Jenny about the “station” comment, but gathered that Thackeray was offering guidance in finding new living quarters. Hopefully he didn’t mean on a train!  
“I will be, but perhaps you could assist me with something else first? Are you familiar with what is called ‘principal stock?’ I think I may have several notes arriving, and I’m uncertain about what they are or what to do with them.”

As always, Mr Thackeray was most helpful. Vastra’s lack of knowledge about Ape finances actually assisted her now: James didn’t expect a supposed ‘foreign widow’ to know much about such things, and he was delighted to refer her to a colleague at the London Stock Exchange, conveniently located near the Bank of England, on Old Broad Street.

*** 

Mr Thackeray’s associate was indeed happy to help, and was able to solve one mystery for them without realizing it. As it turned out the Mercantile Bank on High Holborn, their next target, was one of two banks owned by the senior members of the Black Scorpions. 

They’d known that the Mercantile seemed to be the most popular of the banks the senior Scorpions dealt with. Jenny and Vastra had observed all fourteen men walk through its door at one time or another. Once they discovered the full connection, Vastra decided that the plan was different here. They were not going to simply raid the bank and carry off a few bags of notes and coins. They were going to clean out the vault. Coins, notes, safe deposit boxes, all of it. They’d take anything that was not nailed down, and possibly a great deal that was. 

Jenny protested, “That means we’ll be slogging back and forth through the tunnels and streets all night, getting things out. That’s a good thirty minute walk through the streets back to here ma’am! Be longer through the tunnels!”

“Which is why we won’t be bringing most of the spoils back here; we’re going to cache them instead.”

“Cash them? Ain’t they already cash?”

“No, I mean that we’re going to store most of what we take somewhere near the bank. Remember, our goal is to cripple the Black Scorpions. So our primary objective is to remove their assets. If possible, we’ll retrieve the cache sometime in the future, but given that we currently have more than sufficient for our needs, that’s not a priority at this time. We just don’t want them to find it. So we need to put the cache somewhere safe.”

***

They spent the next week scouting the bank and the surrounding area. They were able to get a good idea of the bank’s layout, and Jenny even made a little sketch, with everything marked in paces. Madame Vastra scouted the streets, and located several open gardens nearby, as well as some buildings that Jenny told her were churches and schools. Eventually she decided on the perfect place to dig a cache: the grounds of a very large building that looked like it might also be a bank. It was connected to the sewers, Vastra simply needed to dig a nice dry cache tunnel, which she would seal once it was full. Even better, it was about a five minute walk from their target through the sewers, close enough to go back and forth to the bank on High Holborn and far enough that the police wouldn’t find the cache easily. 

Vastra sent Jenny to scout the building while she waited nearby. Jenny returned shortly, waving to two small pieces of paper, and said “Come on, you can come have a look too, even with your veil. I got us tickets!”

“Tickets?” asked Vastra, confused.

“Yes ma’am! Admission tickets! Lovely choice you made, very safe, and we can visit any time we like! You picked a spot right under the British Museum!”

***

Vastra dug the cache tunnel and the access tunnel to the vault, as well as a spare escape crawl under the bank on Friday and Saturday nights, sealing the entrances with a thin layer of dirt when she wasn’t working.

On Sunday night they gained the vault with no problem, and emptied it fairly quickly, storing the notes and coins and bags of items taken from the safe deposit boxes first in the access tunnel, and then taking them over to the cache tunnel nearby. When they were done, Vastra sealed the cache tunnel both at the cache hole itself, and then back where it left the sewers. In the dim light of the candle lantern, it was not noticeable, so Vastra carefully carved a small sign from her people’s language in one of the bricks, and showed it to Jenny.  
That way both of them would be able to find the cache again.

“What’s it mean?” asked Jenny, running her fingers over the rounded symbol.

“’Here.’”

“Know it’s here, but what’s it mean?”

Vastra shook her head. “The word is _‘icha.’_ Literally it means ‘eggs.’ It was used to mark egg nests when my people were not as civilized as we are… as we were. The same word came to mean ‘here.’”

“‘Eecha’ ” said Jenny, “Right then, ‘eggs’ marks the spot.” 

“Exactly,” answered Vastra. 

They returned to the bank, and Vastra took the ledgers and books. She wanted to get up to the bank offices here, as she’d done at Sherwin’s, but now she had a new prize to search for thanks to unwitting information from their new friend at the Stock Exchange: The Bank Charter, company books and company seal! If those went missing, the bank would be in a great deal of trouble. 

Jenny knelt and examined the vault door, which had a much more complicated locking system than the one at Sherwin’s. The door was rimmed with a series of bolts, and the controlling plates were concealed within a sturdy metal plate. Jenny was curious about how the locks worked, and Vastra let her look for a moment, though they didn’t need to waste time trying to open it. Vastra had already decided to simply use the crawl space and go under the vault door. With everything already dug, it would only take Vastra a few minutes to break through the floor on the other side of the door.

Jenny shone the lantern into the door frame. “I can see the bolts, I can see the sockets in the frame, but I can’t see how they’re locking. Looks like they aren’t coming together. Must be another bit covered by the frame that’s the real bolt, but I can’t see it.” Jenny made a noise almost like a growl, Vastra thought she might be annoyed.

The girl started to stand, but stumbled slightly and leaned against the door for support.

The door smoothly and quietly slid open.

Jenny looked up at Vastra. 

Vastra looked down at Jenny. 

Jenny just shook her head and whispered. “Blimey, someone’s going to be embarrassed in the morning. Silly blighters left the vault unlocked all weekend! Anyone could have walked right in!”

***

They were surprised by a sudden noise outside the vault:

“What’s all this, then? Who’s there?” came a strong voice from the darkness. “Come on out, and keep yer hands where I can see them.”

“Night watchman!” whispered Jenny, immediately shuttering the lens of the lantern. “That’s us done for!”

“Leave this to me,” said Vastra. “Stay silent until I tell you.”

Jenny nodded in reply.

From the darkness further away came a second voice: “What you found, Cooper?” 

“Warder, get down here. We’ve got company.”

Vastra waited in the shadows, her excellent night vision allowing her to track the approaching watchman. Vastra reminded herself that he was doing his job, and might not be a Scorpion himself. Mr Thackeray had told them that the guards were there ‘for emergencies.’ They’d been lucky before now, they had not met any guards on the first two raids, though one had been watching from the shadows. There had likely been one at the first bank as well.

Vastra took careful aim. She didn’t want to kill, only incapacitate.

A hissing flick, and the watchman was down. Jenny started forward, but Vastra waived her back, eye fixed on the shadows.

“Cooper, you there?” the second voice called again. 

Jenny and Vastra exchanged a glance. This one was out of range. If he was smart enough to run, they were in trouble. How to get him close enough that Vastra could deal with him?

“Cooper?”

Jenny did the only thing she could think of, and let out a soft “meow?”

“Great Caesar’s Ghost! How did a cat get down here?” The man clattered down the stairs, “Mind with the mice we get in the spring…” and with a flick of her tongue, Vastra knocked him out cold. She glanced over at Jenny, who shrugged, and looked embarrassed. 

“Only thing I could think of,” she explained.

“Well done,” said Vastra. “This is the first bank that we’ve encountered guards.”

“First one you were only in the vault. No one was expecting us. Second one, we got lucky, that’s all. Small bank, only one guard and he had sense; he was more scared of us than we are of him. We’re dangerous criminals, we are.”

Vastra glanced down at the slight young hatchling beside her, and tried not to smile. “Speak for yourself,” she murmured, “I’m as gentle as a garter snake.” 

Jenny grinned up at her. “Yer as gentle as a crocodile, ma’am. And when we get home I’ll show you the burn from your tongue on the countertop to prove it.” 

***

Jenny hunted around, and found some rope in a storeroom. She tied the men up, back to back, lying on their sides. She checked one more time to make sure both were still breathing. Madame Vastra kept eying them, and licking her lips, and Jenny wasn’t sure what was going on in Madame’s head. 

“Mind in the Now,” Madame muttered to herself, and Jenny was suddenly very worried about what Madame was thinking. Jenny glanced down at the men. Madame couldn’t… ‘want’ them, could she? Jenny had heard of women who hungered for sex, but Madame really didn’t seem the type. 

Jenny decided that it was too confusing for her, and they both needed action. Best to get on with robbing the bank! She moved away from the men, and spoke to Madame.

“They’re right and tight for now. Got their ‘kerchiefs and I’ll gag ‘em if they wake up.”

Madame dragged her eyes away from the men, and nodded. She left Jenny standing guard while she went and searched the bank offices on the second floor. She found the items she  
was looking for in a locked wooden cabinet. The lock held firm, but the wood didn’t lasted very long. She returned quickly to Jenny, who had the watchmen’s keys, and again let themselves out, this time by the back door, just to be different. 

***

The next morning both ‘The Times’ and ‘The Guardian’ mentioned the recent bank robberies. Jenny bought one of each, and clipped the article from ‘The Guardian’ on “The Masked Lady.” She rather liked the little sketch that went with it. She also saw that the date (May 30th) meant that her birthday was soon. Early June, she remembered that. Didn’t know the exact date though. Ma always kept track of things like that. Maybe she’d just pick one if she couldn’t remember. Not that there’d be a ‘family outing’, as Ma called them, this year. 

Unless maybe they robbed a bank. 

Jenny’s birthday was usually a good excuse to go somewhere different each year, even if it was just somewhere in London. Watching Cutlass Drill on a Warship at the London Docks, or a ride on the Metropolitan Railway, or even a trip to a fair with jugglers and magicians and poets and some special treat, which Jenny never got to see. That day hadn’t ended well; Jenny had been eight, and only remembered a fun day, followed by a flashing blade, fear, being dragged, kicking and running, and lots of yelling adults. And someone telling her that kicking the nasty man was very, very brave.

She’d liked that bit. And the hot tea from the lady with the kind eyes and green scarf had been nice too. Jenny just wished she could remember more.

***

**Masked Lady Robs Third Bank**

**Vaults Blown Clean Open**

**Police Seek Disguised Thief**

**The Mercantile Bank on High Holborn was last night the third bank to be attacked by the mysterious figure police are calling The Masked Lady. The robber is believed to be a man despite reports of skirts and petticoats due to his remarkable strength and agility.**

***

“Right,” remarked Jenny, as she slowly read the rest of the article, sounding out some of the words. “’ cause we all know there’s no such thing as strong, agile women.” She shook her head. 

“So according to the police, I’m a skirt-wearing man with a whip,” said Vastra, who was reading over Jenny’s shoulder. “However do they come up with these ideas? And we blew open the vault? They can’t be that incompetent, we did no such thing!”

“Our tax shillings at work. You made it look like you blew the vault at the bank on Paternoster Row, remember? Looks like you baffled them,” remarked Jenny. “And they can’t very well say they just left the ruddy door open at the Mercantile, now can they? Or that you just disconnected the lock poles at Sherwin’s? Every thief in London would try to get himself locked into a vault at night.”

“Are your newspapers always so… disingenuous… with the facts?” 

Jenny gave her a puzzled look, and Vastra rephrased the question: “Do they often lie like this?”

“Ma said more often than they should, ma’am. Helps sell the papers, I guess.”

“It’s going to cause trouble someday.” Vasta glanced again at the small article. “Oh look; I have an accomplice. At least that part is correct, if rather understated.” 

“Nice to get a mention, I guess.” Jenny chuckled. “Partners in Crime, that’s us.” She handed the paper to Vastra. “Every bank in the city is going to be on watch now.” 

Madame Vastra nodded. “So far, we’ve struck quickly, and hard. For now though, we’ll rest and regroup. Let our enemies taste their fear.” 

Jenny tried not to roll her eyes. More like the Scorpions would be searching even harder than the Police for the bank robbers. She stopped and considered that.

“Wonder if we could confuse things by pinning the jobs on those two bully boys who were after Mr Thackeray? Inspector Abernathy’s on the case, and he half believes that already.”

“The ones who met with the Chinese Scorpion? Convince one faction of the tong that they were being betrayed by the other? Interesting idea. I like it. Now, how do we do it?”

Jenny shrugged. “Not a clue, ma’am. But you’ll think of something, I bet.”

***

Ten days later, Madame Vastra looked up from cleaning her sword. “Enough time has passed. We’ll conduct our next raid this Sunday night.”

Jenny looked up from her notes, surprised. “Bit soon, don’t you think, ma’am?” 

Vastra drew herself up straight, “Apes… Humans aren’t very bright. They won’t be expecting us.”

“Would your people fall for that?” asked Jenny. “If a bandit only skipped a week of raiding?”

“We’re not discussing my people. We’re talking about your humans. Can you honestly see Inspector Abernathy anticipating this?”

Abernathy, well no, Jenny admitted, but she still wasn't sure that this’d work. It seemed too soon to her. She knew humans weren't as daft as Madame Vastra often thought they were. 

***

Using the information from the man at the Stock Exchange, they’d locate the fourth bank. It was in Trafalgar Square, on Cockspur Street, across from the Union Club building. The only problem was, it was right around the corner from Scotland Yard!

As far as Jenny could tell, that didn’t give Madame Vastra the least bit of worry. They’d used the two weeks to explore the surrounding area (Jenny still could not understand why there were two King Streets, nowhere close to each other) and to plan the raid. There were lots of sewers and tunnels to choose from, they were close to the Charing Cross Railway station, and the underground station, and the Lower sewer ran through the area. Jenny felt better though once she knew the streets as well, and it was rather fun to have a good look at Scotland Yard and Whitehall.

Madame dug the cache tunnel and access tunnel in advance and they were ready for Sunday night. The last thing she did, while Jenny watched where the access tunnel met the sewer, was dig a crawl space out to the street that ran behind the bank. Just as she was ready to break into the vault, Jenny gave a clicking noise that Vastra had taught her, and Vastra went to investigate.

Jenny was near the tunnel entrance at the sewer. She glanced back at Vastra. “Someone’s nearby,” she whispered, “I can hear them talking now and then, but I can’t understand what they’re saying.” 

Vastra listened, but couldn’t hear anything. She frowned a little, and shook her head at Jenny, “I don’t hear…” Jenny stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“There it is again,” Jenny whispered. Now Vastra could hear very faint voices.

“You can hear that?” she asked, astounded. It hadn’t occurred to her that the Apes might have better hearing than she did. Perhaps those silly cupped ears were useful after all. 

“They’re getting closer.” breathed Jenny, “Don’t think they’re speaking English, and don’t know what they’re saying. I can hear a lot of sloshing too.” 

“The tunnels echo…”

“Don’t think that’s it, ma’am. Hang on.” The girl knelt and peered carefully around the corner. She quickly drew back, her eyes wide.

“I can see lots of lanterns, ma’am! They’ve got a patrol down here! They’ve figured out we’re using the sewers to get around! What’ll we do? Take them on? Try and go ‘round them? Slip by the other way?” 

“None of the above,” replied Vastra, “It’s likely a random group of toshers, so we’ll go through the bank and use the door. Go back to the crawlspace while I seal the tunnel entrance. Wait there for me; I just broke a small hole into the vault when you came to get me, so there will be air even when this is sealed. We’ll go into the vault together.”

Jenny did as she was told. She scrambled back to where they were ready to break through the floor into the vault, and sat up into the smaller tunnel the Madame had dug under the bank floor to a nearby alley. This way they had options to remove things from the bank, and didn’t need to worry about opening the vault door. 

As she waited for Madame, she heard a soft, short scraping noise. ‘Rats’ she wondered? No, it seemed to come from above her head. She listened, and heard a different sound, a quiet cough. Madame Vastra was coming back up the tunnel now, and Jenny motioned her to be quiet. Madame didn’t seem to understand, and Jenny had to quickly put a hand over Vastra’s mouth. She cocked her head, tapped her ear, and then pointed upwards. Vastra cocked her head, she didn’t understand. Jenny, looked at Vastra’s head, frowning, then pointed at her ear, and at Vastra’s head. It took a moment, but Vastra soon got the idea, and lead forward so Jenny could speak softly to her. Jenny scraped her nails along the roof of the tunnel by the small hole, so that it sounded as if they were digging, and to cover what they were saying.

“There’s someone in the vault waiting for us,” breathed Jenny. “At least two, maybe more. The banks must be wising up.”

Madame Vastra glanced behind her at the sealed tunnel, and then up at the vault. She reached up and scraped at the ceiling herself. The hole she’d made was only an inch or so big, but she could now taste the sweat of the Apes above in the air. She nodded and pointed at the crawlspace and motioned to Jenny to go through. Just as Vastra pulled herself into the small tunnel herself, there was a tremendous CRACK, and she felt bits of debris hit her feet. 

“Get the lights down there, and grab the blighters as soon as you see them! With luck we’ve got them trapped!”

Jenny heard the commotion, and started to try to turn. Looking over her shoulder, she could see light from above, and with another crack, she could see the tip of a pickaxe breaking through the floor into the main tunnel. She straightened up and crawled as fast as she could, feeling Vastra hard on her heels.

“Don’t see them, they must have run back to the sewers!”

“They’re trapped, then! There’s a horde of dockworkers and flushers down there, they’ll get them!”

“When you get to the surface, run.” Came Vastra’s voice behind her. “The shadows hide the entrance, so they haven’t found this tunnel yet, but it won’t take them long.”  
Jenny finished scrambling through the crawlspace, and out into the alley behind some dustbins. She wasn’t sure which scared her more; her being caught, or Madame Vastra being caught. She doubted that Madame would go peacefully, or that the police would treat the lizard woman gently. 

Madame Vastra emerged just behind her. “We’ll split up, and I’ll lure them away. Meet me back at the flat.” 

“It’s too dangerous for you, I can help!”

“No! Get out of here!”

“But…”

“OBEY ME! NOW GO!”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Jenny, shaken, forgot to drop Vastra’s title. 

“You there! Stop!” A whistle sounded back on the main street, and someone ran towards them.

Oh Bloody, Bloody Hell! Police!

Jenny took a last glance at Madame Vastra, and then bolted.

***

Vastra took a deep breath, ready to draw her sword. The constable running towards her only carried a truncheon, and Vastra decided to deal with him by hand and take the weapon.  
She waited until he was close enough, then simply grabbed his truncheon with her tongue, pulled him off balance, and threw him into the dustbins. The man was stunned, so Vastra grabbed the truncheon, and gave him a short sharp rap on the head. The constable went down again, and Vastra decided that was good enough for now. She heard more whistles, and realized several more constables were approaching, although they were still a distance away. She ran, watching for an opportunity to get above them if possible. The Apes, she noticed, often forgot to look up. She ran, turned a corner and saw in front of her an enormous column, rising into the dark. She leapt and climbed, her claws catching in small cracks in the column, pulling herself upwards. When the police arrived, they checked the square, looking behind the recumbent lions, and carefully examining the other statues. None of them ever realized that Admiral Nelson had somehow acquired his own gargoyle.

***

Jenny ran, hearing the police whistles behind her. A horde policemen were following her; although she had a decent lead, losing them might be hard. And she was tiring. This wasn’t the Merry Men and the Sherriff’s henchmen. This was real and very, very bad. She wanted to just disappear. 

Jenny rounded the corner into an alley. It was deserted, and Jenny half-remembered a story of Robin and his men disguising themselves. As she headed down the alley, she snatched her long skirt from her satchel, and moved fast as she ran. Skirt over her head and down. Rip off the cap and mask. Toss the cap behind a dustbin, and wrap the mask around her throat, twisted like a scarf. Matches out. Satchel off. Collapse at the end of the alley by the corner, sitting with the satchel behind her, matches in front. Head down. 

And here were the police running into the alley. They pounded towards her. Jenny took a breath, and released it slowly as Madame had taught her. Stay calm in the face of danger. She was a Match Girl. It was late; she was hungry and desperate for a sale. 

She’d survived the Scorpions and her Da. Could she get through this? 

“Matches,sir? A penny a box!”

“You there! A boy ran through here a moment ago. Where did he go?”

Deny? Act dumb? Ah...!

“Was half-asleep sir. Thought someone went down the street to the right, and then left maybe? Two or three alleys down? Couldn’t swear to it, though.”

“Good enough. After him, lads! He’s built a bit of a lead!” The constables took off at a run. And they were even kind enough to NOT blow their whistles right beside Jenny.

‘Close’ thought Jenny. Too close. She waited a minute; the police would think it strange if she moved too soon. Then she stood, and made her way back up the alley, retrieving her cap, and folding it, the satchel and her mask into a small bundle.

Slowly, cautiously, Jenny made her way back to the Cheapside Gin Palace.

***

Madame Vastra was waiting for her at the flat. And so was a tongue-lashing.

“In the middle of a battle or an emergency, there is no time for discussion. You need to do as I tell you, without questioning.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You are a quick study, and you are fairly clever. The time will come when you will be capable of more independent action. But that time is not now. For now, I will lead, and you will  
follow. Are we clear?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Jenny was tired and badly scared. They’d almost been caught, and she’d been far closer to being arrested by the police than she ever wanted to be. Honestly, if Madame decreed that  
Jenny was to be tomorrow’s lunch instead of a pigeon, Jenny would most likely agree, if it meant she could sleep first.  
Fortunately, while still unfamiliar with Ape ways, Vastra had seen enough of her own warrior cadets to interpret Jenny’s quiet agreement as pure exhaustion. Tomorrow. Tomorrow was time enough to regroup, re-plan and re-engage. Pushing Jenny tonight was pointless. But Vastra knew she’d best debrief the girl, and let her calm down so she could sleep. 

“What happened after we parted?” 

And then Madame Vastra listened to the most listless telling of quick thinking cleverness she’d ever heard from a hatchling. To Jenny it was simple survival; to Vastra the idea of changing from a boy to a girl in the length of an alley was close to genius. While she knew that she still had to enforce Jenny obeying her in an emergency, the girl clearly had a strong survival instinct and a talent for thinking on the run.

And right now, that talented youngster was asleep on her feet. Time for lights out.

And woe to any pigeon that disturbed them in the morning!

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes:  
> The Brilliant Book strikes again: the article from ‘The Guardian’ is a partial quotation of the blurb in the Brilliant Book 2012 that inspired this story.
> 
> ‘Jenny and the Vault door’, was inspired by a story about Harry Houdini trying to escape from a British Bank vault. He could not figure out why his usual lock picking skills weren’t working, until he leaned on the door and discovered that it was unlocked! 
> 
> Yes, in 1881 (or at least 1878) there was a bank on High Holborn about 5-6 minutes from the British Museum. It stands in for the Mercantile Bank. (Robbery #3)
> 
> “The fourth bank… was in Trafalgar Square, on Cockspur Street, across from the Union Club building.” In other words it was right across from where Canada House (the Canadian High Commission in London) now stands. According to the 1878 map of London that I use, there was a bank exactly where I described, and so it becomes the model for the fourth robbery in this story. Happy (belated) Canada Day!
> 
> Bonus points if you picked up on the reference to ‘The Adventure of The Red Headed League.”


	6. Wallowing – Eggs and Bacon – Police - Crime and Punishment - Planning the End Game -The Blackest Scorpion!

Jenny woke up the next morning to an alarming sight. Madame Vastra was already awake and sitting at the little table, a large bottle of gin in front of her. She tipped the last dregs from a mug down her throat, and then scowled at Jenny.

‘Bloody wonderful,’ thought Jenny. ‘Hope she’s not drunk and in a temper over last night’s trouble.’ Jenny was getting rather fond of the idea that she could get through the days without dodging blows except during training. Jenny looked around. No pigeons were waiting for her prepare and cook, and she didn’t hear any of the birds outside. So no breakfast this morning. Well, a good excuse for something different, then. She gathered her clothes, a few shillings and the battered shopping basket, and then looked over at Madame who was now staring into her mug as if puzzled where the gin had gone.

“Going to step out for a few minutes. Anything you need, ma’am?” 

Madame Vastra just shook her head. Jenny sighed, and headed out.

***

Jenny soon returned. She put on a pot of water to boil, placed an old brown second-hand teapot on the table, and then began pulling food out of the basket.

“Where did you go?” asked Madame Vastra. Jenny noticed Madame’s snub nose was twitching; she’d caught the smell of the food.

“To the butcher and the grocer.” 

“I was under the impression that you decided to limit your spending so as not to draw attention,” said Madame Vastra. She’d stood up, a little unsteady on her legs, and now moving back and forth between Jenny, the table, the food and the fireplace, reminding Jenny of an oversize cat hoping for scraps. “Won’t this be seen as suspicious?” 

Jenny winced at Madame’s careful speech; she’d heard her Da do the same when he was trying not to appear drunk in front of Ma. She carried on gamely, “Told the grocer that today’s my birthday, and you told me to get a proper feed. She’s a friendly old gossip; inside an hour all of Cheapside will know what a kind mistress you are. Could even be true; my birthday’s somewhere around now.” Jenny shrugged, “Good excuse for a couple of nice meals today; cheer us up a bit. I’ve eggs and bacon for now, and some decent stewing beef for supper. You can have yours raw if you like. Got a small loaf o’bread, and a few vegetables for my stew. Know you don’t like that, though.”

“I rather enjoyed the stew you made a few weeks ago, on the night we met Inspector Abernathy. It needed more meat and fewer vegetables though.”

“You ate my supper?”

“It would have been foolish to waste it without at least tasting it.” 

“Then I’ll try meat for three and vegetables for one and a half, and see how we like that.” Jenny shook her head, half amused and half-annoyed. Ah well, ‘no supper’ had been her suggestion for a punishment, so she only had herself to blame. Small loss compared to avoiding a beating.

Jenny bustled around, finding a plate for Madame Vastra, and pulling out a skillet. “Right then,’ she said, “How do you like your bacon and eggs, ma’am?”

Madame gave her a speaking look. 

“Raw. Right. Why do I even ask?” Jenny just shook her head. She wondered if Madame’s people cooked at all, but decided that might be safer to ask when Madame was not slightly drunk or hung-over.

“Do you like tea?” she asked instead.

Madame looked up with a slight smile. “Yes, actually I do. I have some very fond memories of drinking tea in different times and different places. It’s been a long time since I’ve had some.”

“Good. Then tea it is.” 

Jenny fixed a pot of tea in the old teapot, and then cut strips of bacon from the slab, and passed Madame a plate with three raw eggs, and several strips of thick raw bacon.

“Jenny, is this what humans call pork?”

“The bacon? Well it’s from pigs, is that what you mean?” Jenny looked at her warily, as if there were a bomb in the bacon. No idea what might set the woman off when she was in her cups.

“Aren’t you worried about trichinosis?” asked Madame.

“Trickin’ who?”

“It’s a disease caused by a parasite that sometimes lives in pork. 

“A para…?”

“A… bug I suppose would be a term for it.”

Jenny looked closely at the bacon. “Don’t see any bugs, and I haven’t heard about it much? How do you get rid of it?”

“Well I’m fairly certain that heat kills it.”

Jenny couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed. “Heat. You mean that cooking the bacon kills the bugs? Imagine that, us Apes finally win a round.” She took back the plate of bacon from Madame Vastra and marched over to the small fireplace. “Now, how would you like your bacon, ma’am: crispy, or a bit soft?”

Madame Vastra looked surprised for a moment, and then thoughtful. “May I have one of each to start?” she asked, “and then I’ll let you know.”

***

It was a pleasant breakfast. Jenny cooked a soft-boiled egg for herself, and just for fun, made one for Madame as well, telling her she didn’t need to eat the whole thing if she didn’t like it; echoing her Ma teasing the little ones into trying new foods. Madame didn’t use a spoon, she just broke off the top of the shell and lapped up the contents, although she almost burned her tongue on the first try. To the surprise of both, she enjoyed the egg so much, she asked Jenny for a second one, and more ‘soft’ bacon as well. 

While Madame was eating, Jenny carefully gathered up the gin bottle, re-corked it, and put it away in the cupboard. Vastra, preoccupied with the soft-boiled eggs and bacon, made no move to stop her.

***

Eventually, Vastra looked up at Jenny, who was sitting across the little table on the bed, mopping up the last of the food from her plate with a piece of bread. Vastra’s head still hurt, but she felt better now that she’d fed. How should she even start to talk about her stupidity, she wondered.

They could have been caught last night in a very clever trap, save that Jenny’s hearing was better than her own, and although undeniably brave, Jenny was also more cautious than Vastra herself. Vastra wondered if that was because the girl had learned to live by her wits on the streets for several weeks in the dead of winter, and did not depend on her physical strength. Vastra herself had survived in the London tunnels for several months after the death of her people, and the experience had only made her hate the Apes even more. 

Vastra shook her head. How did she even begin? Well, she could try being honest, that might work. “I should have listened to you, you know.”

“How d’you mean, ma’am?”

“You have good instincts. Instead of trying to go through the doors, I dug crawlspaces under the vaults on the last two raids at your suggestion. I dug out to the alley last night because you were worried that it was too soon to raid the banks again. I’m starting to understand that you know a great deal about humans, and how they may react, although you still credit them with far too much intelligence. I should have listened to you and waited. It was fortunate that neither of us was caught.” 

***

Jenny sighed “Ma’am, you’re an adult, and you’re very smart, and very brave, but honestly you’ve got some daft ideas about humans. You really need to get out and about more." Jenny leaned her cheek on her hand and her elbow on the table, and gave the lizard woman a look of fond exasperation. Not that Madame would recognize it as such, Jenny supposed. The woman had confessed that human faces were hard for her to read. “You don't need a maid, you know. You need a keeper. Someone to keep you out of mischief, ma’am”

Madame Vastra looked at Jenny for a long moment, her head cocked, and her tongue flickering out, just a tiny bit, as if tasting the idea. "What I need is…an assistant. A companion." 

There was a long, quiet moment, when time itself could change…

Pounding feet on the stairs suddenly interrupted them, followed by a fist hammering on the door of the flat.

“Open up!” boomed a loud voice. “This is the Police!”

***

Madame Vastra and Jenny scrambled up from the table. Both quickly cast their eyes around the tiny flat. While nothing incriminating could be seen, it would only take a few minutes of searching to turn up the money hidden under the bed, and Jenny’s notebook, filled with information about the Scorpions, the banks and the stock certificates. Vastra grabbed the kitchen knife Jenny used to slice the bacon, and slid behind the door. She nodded to Jenny to open it.

Jenny wasn’t quite sure what Madame intended to do with that knife, but she doubted that it would help. No chance to warn her though, the door was thin, and anything she said would be heard by the men on the other side.

Jenny took a deep breath, let it out, and opened the door.

Inspector Abernathy and Constable Palmer stood on the other side, Abernathy’s hand was still raised, ready to pound on the door again, a huge grin on his face. Constable Palmer stood with folded arms, shaking his head. Strangely, just behind them stood Mr Thackeray, with his hands on his hips, looking fit to burst. 

“Good Morning, sirs!” Jenny greeted them. “You’re around early? Not any trouble, I hope?”

“I’m taking you down to Scotland Yard, my girl. Where’s your Mistress, she’s coming as well.”

“Scotland Yard! Why? What’d I do?”

“It’s a special treat for you! Happy Birthday Jenny!”

“Bloody Hell, Inspector, don’t you ever do that again! It’s a very good thing that it is me birthday, ‘cause you just scared a year’s growth off me!” As Jenny was speaking, Madame Vastra emerged from behind the door, the knife concealed in the folds of her skirt.

“Language, Jenny! Don’t swear in front of your Mistress!” That was Thackeray, stern-voiced but grinning. 

“While I agree about the swearing, I do think poor Jenny is just surprised. How did you know it was her birthday?” asked Madame Vastra.

“Oh, the local grocer told Mrs Brown, and Constable Palmer heard them. When he passed by the bank, he mentioned it to Thackeray here, who was out for a smoke, and he sent a messenger off to me, and here we are!” Abernathy beamed at Jenny. “Knew you’d liked the visits to the bank and the stock exchange, I hope you’ll enjoy visiting where I work as well. Perhaps we can even persuade Constable Palmer here to take you to visit the London Police Headquarters someday soon.”

“Was thinking more along the lines of introducing her to Newgate Prison, sir.” Palmer’s voice was bone dry as he eyed the girl. Wonderful, thought Jenny, he’s holding a grudge from Mr Dawes getting on his tail about the bully boys. 

Constable Palmer, Jenny noticed, was taking the opportunity to have a good look at the flat from the doorway. Jenny let him; aside from the breakfast dishes, the place was as neat and clean as ever, and there was nothing lying around that might confirm any suspicions the man had.

“Newgate? Bit grim don’t you think?” asked Abernathy, oblivious to the undercurrent between Palmer and Jenny.

“I would invite you gentleman in for tea, but I’m afraid we would not all fit.” Madame Vastra said, using the most formal voice that she could. “Inspector, a visit to Scotland Yard would be most educational. If you would give us fifteen minutes to clean up and make ourselves presentable, we shall meet you downstairs.” 

Just then Mrs Brown called up the stairs: “Inspector, there’s a messenger here for you. He says it’s urgent.” Abernathy excused himself, and went to see what the fuss was about. He returned a moment later, frowning over the message.

“There was another robbery last night, at the Trafalgar Bank. Jenny, I’m very sorry, but I need to postpone that visit to the Yard. But we’ll schedule it soon. I’ll try to come around this evening and let you know what the latest is on the case!”

The men followed his lead and left, Abernathy with a cheerful wave and Palmer with a last look around. Mr Thackeray took a moment to pass over a packet for Jenny, saying that it was a present; he needed to return to the bank, but he’d come along because he wanted to wish Jenny all the best for the day, and keep the inspector from carrying a foolish prank too far.

***

That evening, Abernathy and Thackeray met them behind the Gin Palace. Inspector Abernathy was bouncing between elation and despair. 

“It turns out The Trafalgar Bank had some of its own men in the vault and the sewers last night, and they almost caught the robbers! But they escaped from the bank, and then were spotted by our local patrol.”

“What happened?” asked Jenny, curious to see how the police were telling the story.

“The boy outran us, pure and simple. The Masked Lady… seems to have disappeared into thin air.” 

“Fairly sure it’s a man, sir; he probably just took off the skirts. Everyone was so focused on looking for a woman; they probably ran right by him.” Constable Palmer walked into the Area and joined them. 

Jenny blinked in surprise. That was exactly what had happened, but t’other way around. Instead of The Masked Lady becoming a man, her ‘boy accomplice’ had become a match girl. Constable Palmer was too smart for Jenny’s comfort.

Jenny thanked Mr Thackeray for his gift; a thin book on managing household accounts, and a small blank account book. Abernathy dug into his pockets, and produced a wrapped box, which turned out to be a small but very practical sewing kit. 

Mrs Brown spotted the group, and brought out drinks for them, including a small mug of Ginger Beer for Jenny ‘as a Birthday treat.’ Jenny thanked her, took a small sip while Mrs Brown beamed, then set it aside. Vastra quietly examined it after Mrs Brown returned indoors, and declared that it had a very low alcohol content. After that, Jenny happily sipped away at it, enjoying the strong ginger taste. Given how poorly her Da did with strong drink, Jenny was sure that she should avoid it as much as possible. 

The group relaxed, Abernathy shaking his head over the latest news. “They’ve robbed three banks. They took mostly cash and notes from the first, they did a more thorough job on the second and completely cleaned out the third. They tried for a fourth bank, and were almost caught. So what will they do next?”

“Have the police found any connection between the banks?” asked Madame Vastra.

“None so far,” replied Abernathy. Jenny kept quiet; Madame would lead the conversation if she needed to, Jenny’s job was to listen and remember. Jenny was happy with that; it would look awful strange if she knew too much about the banks that were robbed.

“They only strike on Saturday and Sunday nights,” Abernathy continued. “They may work during the week nights, making it difficult for them to set things up for a robbery. And that’s another thing, how in blazes are they digging so fast?”

“Language, Abernathy!” admonished Thackeray.

Jenny glanced over to where Constable Palmer was sitting stiffly with a small mug of tea. He looked annoyed at Abernathy’s blathering, but she knew that he couldn’t say anything, as the Inspector was senior to him in rank. Jenny suddenly felt badly for him; Abernathy, Thackeray and even Madame Vastra were of a different social class, and that made things awkward for him. 

Palmer noticed her looking at him, and waved her over. Jenny warily approached him, sitting on an upturned bucket, close enough that they could speak quietly, without being so close as to be a nuisance. He scowled at her for a long moment. “Surprised that I ain’t got a present for yer?” he asked.

Jenny shrugged. “Surprised I got any presents at all to be honest! My family usually celebrated birthdays with a decent meal, and a day trip on Saturday to somewhere interesting, usually somewhere cheap or free. Couldn’t afford many presents.” 

Palmer’s face softened slightly. “Aye, same with my lot. Christmas we might get something, birthdays not so much. So how old are you, anyway?”

“Thirteen,” Jenny answered promptly. 

“Ready to take on the world.” Palmer nodded, then growled, “Hold out your hand.”

Jenny cautiously did so. Palmer fished in his breast pocket; then pressed a piece of warm metal into Jenny’s palm. “You’re the type that gets into trouble, both of your own making and not. Too clever for your own good, I’d wager. This won’t work miracles, but it might help a bit. Three long blasts, then pause, and three long blasts. That’ll bring the police if any can hear it.”

Jenny opened her hand to examine the shiny silver tube of a London police whistle and grinned. “Oh, that’s grand, that is! Thank you so much!“

“Be careful, it can’t summon the police out of thin air. So don’t depend on it.” Palmer suddenly gave a full grin. “Mind, if you blow it right in a bloke’s ear, it might buy you a breath or two. But then run like the wind. ‘Cause he’ll be mad enough to gut you like a fish.”

Jenny nodded, impressed. 

Abernathy’s raised voice interrupted them.

“We will catch him and his accomplice too!”

“So what will happen to the robber if, I mean when the police catch her..him?” Jenny prayed that Abernathy hadn’t caught the slip.

No danger there, the man was as thick as ever. Even Jenny was starting to wonder how on earth he’d ever become a police inspector.

“Well, at this point imprisonment. But if either the watchmen or the policemen were killed, it would be the noose, of course.” 

“What?” Jenny was surprised. And scared.

“For murder committed during a robbery? Of course they’d be hung! Robbery is one thing Jenny, but murder is quite another.”

Jenny suddenly realized that she needed to make sure Madame Vastra understood this. The woman didn’t seem to recognize, or respect, many human laws. If Madame used the poison in that tongue of hers when she was angry, they’d both be in the soup for sure.

And maybe it was time to stop robbing banks.

***

“I don’t want you topped!”

Madame Vastra had never seen Jenny so upset. The girl was pacing back and forth like … well… a caged ape. 

“Topped?”

“Hung ma’am. Strung up. Killed.” Jenny shook her head. “’Member when we were in the Museum? All them insect bodies and skeletons and such?” 

“Of course. Rather elementary, naturally, you apes are just beginning to get a grasp on basic science…” 

“Yes, Ma’am, we are. So we collect things. Anything strange, or unusual, or not seen before. Butterflies, fish, and all sorts of reptiles…” 

Jenny took a deep breath. “Don’t you see? If they hang you, they won’t bury you ma’am. They’ll carve you up like an animal, and you’ll end up stuffed in some collection. You don’t want that and neither do I! But there’s no way on earth I could stop it, ‘cause I’ll be in jail!”

Madame Vastra studied Jenny for a long moment. She flicked her tongue out just a bit, tasting the air. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?” she asked. “You’re afraid of being caught!”

It was all Jenny could do not to roll her eyes. “’Course I’m afraid of being caught. But I’m more scared for you than for me. Ma’am, what are we doing?”

“Shutting down the Scorpions, or course!” 

“Yes, Ma’am. Why?”

“So you’ll be safe.” 

“What about you being safe?”

Madame Vastra sighed deeply, and looked at Jenny for a long moment. 

“Jenny,” she said gently, “I am very, very old, and I have lost all my family. In a very real way, I am the last of my kind. In your world, the world of the Apes, I will never be truly safe.”

“Maybe not,” said Jenny, “But you’re safer now than when we met, ain’t you? Now you know Mr Thackeray, and Mr Dawes, and even Inspector Abernathy and Constable Palmer.” She shrugged and grinned a little. “And me of course, for what that’s worth.”

“That’s worth… a great deal. Far more than you seem to think. And yes I see your point about the others, but we’ve been lying to them.” 

“Yes, Ma’am. That’s what I mean. Maybe it’s time to stop lying to them.” Jenny grinned again. “Mind you, I’m not sure we want to go around telling them all the truth, but we need to stop stealing.”

“We haven’t even touched the Chinese Scorpion yet.”

“All right. Let’s put him down. And then we stop.”

“I’d still like to clean out that last bank. And get the safe deposit boxes that we missed at Willmott’s. However, we have a new problem.”

Jenny frowned, “A problem?” she asked.

“Did you catch what Inspector Abernathy told us about the men in the vault last night?”

“He said they were the bank’s men.”

“Correct. Those men also knew there were dockworkers down in the sewers looking for us. And you didn’t understand the language those workers spoke. Most likely, it was Chinese.” Madame Vastra sounded very grave. “Jenny, it is very likely that the Scorpions have guessed that we are targeting them.”

Jenny felt ill. The Scorpions were already trouble for her. Now they would be mad as hornets. 

“Our only advantage is that they seem to be convinced we’re men,” continued Madame Vastra.

“What about the police? When you were telling me that story when we started, about mining a fortress, didn’t you say that part of the plan was to send in warriors after the wall was broken? If the Scorpions are weaker than they were, could we get the police to help lock them up? We’ve got a lot more notes and stuff on them now.” 

“The question is, can we do so without giving away who the robbers really are?”

“Let’s try, at least. Please?”

“All right. Tomorrow we’ll review your notes. We’ll write up our findings, have a close look at the details, and demonstrate what crimes the Scorpions have committed, send the notes to Scotland Yard, and see if we can finally get the police to do their job.”

***

On Tuesday, using Jenny’s notes, they wrote up their case against the Scorpions; who was involved, where they lived, what companies they owned, how they were connected, everything. They also tallied up what ‘belonged’ to the senior Scorpions based on the ledgers they’d taken. This amount Madame Vastra claimed in a covering letter as their ‘fee’ for the investigative work they’d done. It amounted to almost one million pounds. Finally, Madame cut out the pages of the records belonging to the senior Scorpions from the ledger books and day books.

Jenny’s notes started in the back half of her school copybook. Her Da had ripped it in two along the spine in a fit of drunken anger. She’d recovered it a few days after she met Madame Vastra when they ‘raided’ Jenny’s family flat.

As Jenny worked, Madame leafed through the notes in the second notebook. She watched Jenny slowly and carefully print the information, including updates and corrections that they’d made over time. Madame finally asked, “You print. You do not write?”

Jenny looked up, surprised. “Can a little, but I’m not very good at it. Need more practice. Might buy a book that can show me, when I’ve saved up a bit more.”

Madame nodded, then cocked her head. “Now that I think about it, there was some nice writing in your copy book. In the front.”

“In my school book? Where was that?” 

Madame hunted up the other part of the torn book, and then showed Jenny the page inside the cover that she’d seen a few weeks ago.

Jenny stared at the writing for a long time, not saying anything, then reached out her hand and brushed the tips of her fingers over it. “This is Ma’s writing,” she said sadly. “This is my family, me and my brother and sister. Even the baby’s here, Ma was going to write in the date Frankie was born.” She pointed to the date beside her own name: June 4, 1868. “These must be our birthdays.”

Jenny could feel Madame watching her. Would a woman who wasn’t quite human understand? This was one of the very few things she had left of her family. 

It took a few minutes for them to sort out that based on the date of the newspaper clipping about the third bank robbery, Jenny’s birthday was just over a week ago; the Saturday of the weekend that they’d skipped raiding the banks. 

“It’s too bad we missed the correct day,” said Madame Vastra. 

“Couldn’t be helped,” replied Jenny. “Least now I know the proper date.”

“Agreed. We’ll do better next year.”

Jenny gave her a sad little smile, wondering if Madame would still have time for Jenny a year from now. Even her own Da didn’t want her around; why would Madame Vastra, who didn’t really like people, stay in touch? 

***

When Jenny was finished writing, Vastra looked over the new notes for a long time, and then looked up, staring sightlessly through the window. Finally she spoke.

“Jenny, based on what you’ve written, and what we’ve done, what are we most likely to do next?”

Jenny frowned for a moment, then said, “Guess we’d try again for the Trafalgar Bank, or maybe rob…” she leafed through her notes, “the Tomes Bank near the Strand.”

Vastra stared at her for a moment. “When?” she asked.

“Either this Sunday or next. Maybe in three weeks.” Jenny replied without hesitating. She thought a moment, then shrugged. “Guess we might do it on a Saturday instead, like when we started.”

Vastra nodded. She’d been very foolish. “We established a pattern, and we were almost caught.”

A pattern that was clear enough now that even Jenny, for all her inexperience, could predict with accuracy what they were going to do next. The police didn’t know, because they didn’t have the information that Vastra had, but the Scorpions certainly knew which banks they dealt with. Guessing the nights of the robberies was child’s play after three consistent samples.

“So now, we’re going to break the pattern,” Vastra continued. “Tell me, based on your notes, if we want to do something unexpected, what should we do?”

“Not rob a bank. Or rob one any night other than Sunday night or Saturday night. A Thursday might be good, or a Tuesday. Confuse them. Best not to rob the bank, though.”

“Unfortunately the Scorpions will most likely shuffle their funds to one of the other banks. Possibly one we’ve already robbed, which would complicate matters.”

“Well they might take it out of the bank altogether. Keep it at home. Lots of people don’t use banks.”

Vastra was startled. “Keep it at home?”

“Sure. Most unexpected thing a rich man could do: keep his money in his house.” Jenny shrugged.

Vastra cocked her head. “Is that likely?”

“Well not usually I’d guess, but if someone was hitting a batch of banks, then maybe yes? We don’t use a bank. I just give my earnings to you. You don’t use a bank, your money’s under the bed.”

Startled, Vastra looked up and hissed. “How do you know where my money is?”

Jenny stared back at her surprised. “You’re daft some days, you know that? We counted it out and stacked it under the bed!”

Vastra almost slapped herself. Jenny was referring to the bank money, not Vastra’s meager savings!

“Yes, you are correct. It slipped my mind.” Vastra was fairly certain that Jenny didn’t believe her, but the damage was done.

“Very well then. We still have certain goals to achieve. I have an idea on how to do so.” Vastra stood up, and moved to gather her cloak. “The first thing we need is a good map of London.”

***

They walked over to visit the publishers and bookstores on Paternoster Row, and at Houlston’s found a map that fit Madame’s needs. While they were on Paternoster Row, Madame spent some time looking at the area and the buildings. Jenny was unsure what she was doing, but thought it might have something to do with Sherwin and Soames Bank. Jenny wasn’t sure why Madame was so interested in the area; although they’d not completely cleared out the vault, they’d done a pretty thorough job in Jenny’s opinion, and they didn’t need to go back. Mind, St. Paul’s Cathedral was impressive, and the area seemed agreeable without being West End expensive. The law courts (and Newgate Prision) were nearby, but so where several nice sets of town houses. Wouldn’t be a bad place to live or work, Jenny decided. She had no idea what Madame was thinking, though. No doubt she’d be asked or told if needed. Not like it was her problem either way. Even Jenny knew that people of her sort might visit a respectable place like this, but former match girls could never live here.

***

After they returned to the flat, Madame Vastra spent some time going over Jenny’s notes again, jotting down ideas in a separate sheet of cheap foolscap. At one point she summoned Jenny from the roof where the girl was practicing footwork, and proceeded to ask some very strange questions. 

“I need to confuse a group of apes in a building.” Madame Vastra began. “Perhaps even arrange for them to leave of their own choice. There are several methods we might consider. I want you to point out pitfalls or ideas that I may have missed.”

“What sort of methods?”

“Arson, for example,” said Madame.

“Burn the place?” Jenny was shocked. “You’d destroy what’s inside, and it would soon be crawling with firemen and police. Could spread to other buildings too. Pretty dangerous!” 

“I was rather thinking of setting a small fire, and using the smoke as the distraction. But let us consider other ideas first. Perhaps we could stage a collision between two carriages? Would the servant’s go out and help? Or better; load a carriage with bank notes, we have plenty of those, and arrange for it to crash. They ‘d run out for the money. That would take advantage of Ape greed.”

“You really don’t like us, do you? ‘Sides, I can’t drive a carriage. Yet. Can you?”

“No. Could we hire a cab?”

“To crash? Thought we were keeping in the shadows? You hire a cabby for that, and it’ll be bloody expensive and the cabbies are worse than our grocer for gossip!” 

“We may need to consider another partner in the future.”

“What about pretend a Gas Leak? No, wait, we’d need a man to pose as a gas company man.”

“Why?”

“Women don’t work as gas inspectors. Or cabbies, for that matter.”

“Why not?”

“Dunno. Maybe the men don’t like to share the jobs that pay well?”

“Apes are very strange.”

“Pity we’re well past the Queen’s Birthday. Some years there are fireworks and such.”

“Fireworks? Small random explosions? That might work”.

Jenny suddenly started laughing. “If we want them gone, maybe we should just send them letters, you know something like “We’ve been found out, run away!” and sign the names of the other Scorpions.” 

“Now that idea,” said Madame Vastra, “has some interesting possibilities.”

***

It took Vastra another two days to perfect her plan. Once she was done, she bundled up the copy of Jenny’s notes and mailed them to Inspector Abernathy. She almost wished she could mail them to Constable Palmer, as she wasn’t sure about Abernathy’s intelligence, but the Inspector was named in the newspapers as investigating the case; he was the point of contact that the public (and in theory, the robbers) knew about. 

On Friday evening Abernathy dropped by to rant to Thackeray and Madame Vastra about the arrogance of the robbers. The notes arrived that morning, and were already causing quite a stir at Scotland Yard. Abernathy was torn between elation at all the information about the Tong’s criminal activities in the East End, and anger over the accusations against the senior Scorpions.

“The allegations about the banks and business men are pure nonsense of course, they must be!”

“Perhaps, but perhaps not. Mr Dawes was concerned about something he found in the ledgers of Sherwin and Soames,” replied Mr Thackeray. “I suggest you get in touch with him first thing on Monday, and let him have a look at those notes. I think he might have some insight for you.” 

Abernathy reluctantly agreed, but then cheered up a bit. “We have some of our men looking into the other goings on; the notes had information that could break the Black Scorpions wide open if they are true!”  
Jenny and Madame Vastra both slept very well that night. 

***

On Monday, Madame Vastra sat down with Jenny. The map was spread on the table between them, and for a change, Madame sat on the bed beside Jenny so they could both read it.

“Our last task is to investigate the offices and homes of the members of upper classes who have been profiting from the Scorpions. I particularly want to focus on the Head of the Tong, the Chinese Senior Scorpion. So far he is almost untouched, because he did not keep as much money in the banks as the other Seniors. Today is when we will prepare for that work. We will be very busy for the next three days and nights. If all goes as planned, by Friday we will have done as much as we can do against the Scorpions. After that, we will leave it in the hands of the police.”

“Now, let me explain…” 

***

Madame Vastra went through her entire plan in detail, using the map to explain key locations and times. Today and tonight was the ground work; Madame was going to be doing things in several locations, in both the east and west ends of the city. The plan was tricky, daring and would depend on a great deal of surprise. 

After a second run through, Jenny looked from the map to Madame Vastra and then back again, tracing through the plan with a finger. Finally she sat back, gazed at Madame for a long moment and finally said,

“Ma’am, I’m not sure if you’re absolutely brilliant, or barking mad!”

“Barking…? I am most certainly NOT a dog!”

“Nevermind, sorry I mentioned it.” Jenny shook her head. “What do you need me to do?”

“Several tasks that may seem trivial at first glance, but which are important to our success.”

Madame Vastra handed Jenny a letter and a list.

“I need you to follow these instructions. Make certain they are carried out in this exact order. Do you understand?”

Jenny looked at the list:

First - Wrap up the ledgers and day books in waterproof parcels

Second - Move the parcels to the Guildhall, north of the Police Station near the Bank of England, and hide them in the covered walkways on the east side of the lawn. 

Third - Take the London underground to the west end, and mail the letter addressed to ‘The Bank Manager – Bank of England.’ It has instructions on how to find the ledgers, so it must be mailed After the parcels are hidden, as the Post Office will be as efficient as usual. If possible, mail it after 7:30 PM. 

Finally - Return to the flat and wait for Vastra to return. Destroy this list.

Jenny shrugged. “Second one’ll take time and be tricky. The rest are simple enough.” 

“Agreed. Can you do it? Constable Palmer works out of that police station; if he sees you near the Guildhall, he will recognize you. If he recognizes you, when the ledgers are found, he will suspect that you are somehow involved with the robberies. So you must not be seen, and you must certainly not be caught!”

Jenny paused for a long moment, thinking carefully. “Yes. Yes ma’am, I can do it.”

***

Madame Vastra watched her young human, highly amused. Jenny spent some time arranging the books in piles; first one big pile that was almost too heavy for her to lift, next many piles of one book each, which ended in mutterings about wrapping paper and too many trips. Then followed combinations of books that seemed to be tests for what the girl could carry and conceal, using scraps of cloth to judge how much wrapping paper she would need. Finally satisfied, the girl, dressed in her’ maid’s outfit’ was ready to go and pick up her supplies. Madame Vastra left with her. They parted company downstairs, Jenny heading to get waxed parcel paper and string, and Madame Vastra to begin the preparations for the final series of raids on the Black Scorpions.

***

Jenny bought what she needed, scattering her purchases over several shops. She returned to the flat at the Gin Palace, and wrapped up the piles of books. Just to confuse matters, she combined the books of different banks as she needed them for convenience, and didn’t sort them according to which bank they were from. When she was ready she put the first, large package in her satchel and headed out.

***

It took several trips. Once while walking west on Cheapside towards Milk Street so she could take a back route north to the Guildhall, Jenny met Constable Palmer. She said hello, as she decided she was in her own neighbourhood, and it would look stranger if she didn’t than if she did. She finished dropping off the last parcel, and then headed north to Moorgate Station on the Underground. She rode to Notting Hill Gate, which was close to the houses of two of the senior Scorpions. She found a Pillar Box, (one of the old green ones, to her surprise,) and posted the letter. Finally, with the sun just starting to set, she exited the Mansion House station, and was done.

As she approached the Gin Palace, she saw Mrs Brown in the distance, standing on the wood sidewalk in front of the Gin Palace and welcoming her patrons for the evening. She saw the grocer’s boy trudging towards to his shop, probably coming back from a late delivery. Jenny waved her hand in greeting, and Mrs Brown and the boy waved back. 

All of them missed the driver of a run-down carriage parked at the side of the street near the Gin Palace, who turned around, stared hard at Jenny, and then leaned down to speak to his passenger. As Jenny came abreast of the carriage the lights suddenly went out and she found herself wrapped in what felt like an old sack, bodily lifted up, and tossed. She hit hard, and for a moment the wind was knocked out of her. She heard muffled shouting, and then the surface lurched beneath her, and kept moving.

‘Bloody hell,’ swore Jenny in her head, ‘I’ve been snatched!” She tried to yell, but another bit of cloth was wrapped around her head over the sack, covering her mouth. It was everything Jenny could do not to choke. Rope was wrapped around her body and her legs, and after that, all Jenny could do was wait. She tried to fight the horror she felt; she’d been snatched before as a little girl, though luckily she’d been rescued. She was older now, and better trained. She might be able to get out of this herself if she stayed calm. 

Suddenly she remembered that she’d followed Madame’s instructions to the letter. So the list of instructions was still in her pocket, waiting to be destroyed when Jenny returned to the Gin Palace. That list proved they were the bank robbers! 

She tried to search her head for anything in Madame Vastra’s lessons that might be useful. The one thing that kept surfacing was “Anger is always the shortest distance to a mistake.” Whatever else she did, Jenny needed to stay calm and think. 

***

After a rough ride for a long time, the carriage stopped and Jenny was lifted up and tossed over what felt like a man’s shoulder. From the sound and feel of things, she guessed she was being carried up a flight of stairs. She could smell a thick cloying smoke, and she almost gagged into the cloth in her mouth.

A minute later, she was tossed to the floor, dragged up to her knees by the scruff of her neck, the ropes were loosened and the sack ripped from her head.

Jenny quickly glanced around, and knew she was in a bad fix.

The two toughs, youth and adult, were at her sides, each holding an arm with their hand on her shoulders, pressing her down. The room was filled with men, mostly Chinese. In front of her was a throne like chair, painted gold with red velvet cushions. On it sat a man, his face in shadow. 

Her maid’s cap was ripped off her head. “This is the girl from the gin shop what kept us from taking the ledgers you wanted, sir. She managed to give us the slip when we went back to snatch that bank manager. She’s probably squealing to the bank robbers too; we know that the police like to chat with her Mistress at the Gin Palace, and tell her stuff. Likely she can tell you where the ledgers are better than anyone, sir ”

“Wait,” came a heavily accented voice. Another man, this one Chinese, stepped up and grabbed her face, turning it so he could see the mole above her lip. “Two men are dead because of this little bitch! This is Jenny Flint, the young whore we are hunting.”

“I’m no whore, you goddamned son of a pox-struck bastard!” swore Jenny. She started to struggle, but quickly stopped. No point in wearing herself out, she might need her strength later. 

“So this is our elusive young vixen.” said the man in front of her, in excellent English with a faint Chinese accent. He rose from his throne-like chair and approached, circling around her. Finally he stopped in front of her, and with a menacing sneer asked: “And do you know who I am, young miss?”

Jenny looked up from her knees and growled. “Yes ‘sir’. You’re the Leader of the Black Scorpion Tong.” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:
> 
> Trichinosis – Before you start throwing out the bacon, this disease has almost disappeared, at least in North America. When I was researching this chapter, the figures stated that about a dozen cases crop up a year, mostly in poorly prepared GAME meats, not pork. I first learned about the disease years ago from a now elderly relative who was both a farm girl and public health nurse. When she was young, the disease was a real concern. Now, well, just remember to cook your pork properly.
> 
> "…as the Post Office will be as efficient as usual." – Vastra isn't being sarcastic here; depending on the year in question, the Post Office in Victorian London delivered the mail from six up to twelve times a day, on rounds between 7:30 AM and 7:30 PM! In the country, there were up to six rounds a day.
> 
> Next time –Young Jenny's in a fine fix. The shadowy leader of the Black Scorpion Tong in front of her, the Tong member who bought her for a whore behind her, two toughs holding her down, and a roomful of angry Scorpions!
> 
> The Black Scorpion Tong has no idea how much trouble they're in, do they?


	7. Confrontations, Revelations, and the Completion of The Adventures of the Masked Lady

**Late June 1881**

The Black Scorpion looked at Jenny closely. He wore a dark suit and a black mask. "You are correct; I am the Head of the Black Scorpions. How do you know who I am?" 

Jenny gave him sour look, pulling slightly against the grip of her captors. "I'm in a room full of Chinese, and the only Chinese that are bothering me are the Black Scorpions. You've got a gold painted chair, doubt you're a hired thug like these two. On top of all that, you’re the only one with a mask. Not that hard to work out. 'Sir.' " 

Jenny realized that the cloying smoke she smelled when she was brought in was probably from opium. Likely she was above the Den in the East End. Well, at least she had an idea where she was; if she could get loose somehow then she might have a chance to make it back to the Gin Palace. If she could survive the East End of London after sundown.

To Jenny's surprise, the Scorpion simply nodded, returned to his chair, and watched her closely. The room was dimly lit; with only one coal-gas lamp near the main door, and several lanterns scattered about. Jenny suddenly realized that there was an Englishman standing just behind the chair, hiding in the shadows. There seemed to be a window and a door behind him, but it was full night outside now, and Jenny couldn't see very much. She hadn't seen the man before that she could recall; he was well-dressed, but more like Mr Thackeray than Mr Dawes. Jenny thought he might be a professional man, maybe? 

Jenny took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, trying to keep calm. There would be no last minute rescue. Heroes only worried about maids in stories and Madame Vastra wouldn’t even know she was gone until she returned to the flat later that evening. Pity Madame might never know that Jenny had followed her instructions to the letter. But even if Mrs Brown remembered to tell her that Jenny had been snatched within sight of the Gin Palace, Madame Vastra’d still likely think it was Jenny’s fault somehow. Like Da blamed her for Ma bleeding to death birthing the baby. No, best not to think ‘bout that. Not now. Not ever.

On t’other hand, her childhood hero Will Scarlett was no slouch at fighting. He was the best swordsman of the Merry Men and Madame Vastra had taught her pretty well the last few months; to hell with just lying down and dying. She still had her knife, hidden in the small of her back beneath her shirt; Jenny swore she’d go down swinging if it came to that. But maybe she could cause some trouble for the Scorpions first.

She was brought back to the danger she was in by a hard pull on her arm. "We seen you nattering with the Law," said the older thug. "What did they tell you, eh? Where are the ledgers? Who are the Bank Robbers?"

"Why you askin' me? The police say you’re the bank robber, you and your boy here," exclaimed Jenny, scowling at him. An angry sound swept through the room. 

"None of that nonsense..."

"What nonsense?" She looked forward to where the Head Scorpion sat. "The inspector said this man and his boy tried to nick the ledgers, and they’re likely the bank robbers. Makes sense, don't it? They know about the Black Scorpions, but they're not Chinese so they don't have any reason to be loyal to you, and the robbers are a man and a boy. Who else would it be?"

"The robber is a woman..." 

"Our Constable says he's a man wearing a skirt... YOWWW!!!"

The thug had pulled back hard on Jenny's arm, almost pulling it out of the socket. "You lying little bitch, who are you calling a skirt-wearing sod..."

"Enough! McPhillips, let her up! You may not like what you hear, but she is telling us what the police are saying. And doing a better job of it than you did."

"We're not the Bank Robbers, sir!"

"Release her. You will get your chance to speak when she is done."

The thugs reluctantly released Jenny's arms and shoulders. Jenny decided to stay low, though she shifted so that she was up on one knee, in case she needed to move quickly. Around her, several groups were arguing loudly in a mixture of languages. 

The Head Scorpion surveyed the room, quelling the grumbling voices with a look, and then turned back to her. "What else have you heard?"

Jenny frowned a moment and cocked her head.

"Well?"

"Give me a tick, it's not like I'm writing all this stuff down, you know." Well, she was, but she wasn't about to tell him that either. She thought another moment, what was safe to say? "The police said they hadn't found any connection between the banks." That bit was true as well, the police hadn't known why those exact banks were being robbed until Madame had told them. Better not mention the notes they’d sent to the police or the ledgers. Maybe wait and see if the Scorpions knew about them, Jenny decided.

"Well that is fortunate for my colleagues, but the Bank Robbers certainly are aware of one. Or they are very, very lucky. Or rather, they will find they are very unlucky when we catch them. As well as very dead."

“Why do you care about a bunch o’ bank robberies? They beat you to ‘em? And why all the fuss about the ledgers?”

The Head Scorpion glanced at the older thug and nodded. Jenny fell over and bit her tongue when the thug dealt her a heavy smack on the back of her head. 

“You will answer questions, you will not ask them,” said the Head Scorpion.

Jenny glared up at him as she righted herself, being careful not to shake her head. Madame Vastra once warned her during training not to do so if she received a blow to the head. Jenny had listened even if she didn’t understand everything Madame said; she didn’t fancy ending up with her brains scrambled into mush.

The well-dressed Englishman spoke up. “McPhillips and son here said that they were unable to retrieve the ledgers due to your interference. Who were the men who helped you stop them? We suspect they may be the bank robbers who are now in possession of a considerable amount of Scorpion funds.”

Jenny stared at him for a moment. “What are you talking about? There weren’t no men with us, there was only…” She stopped, and then grinned wildly, despite her danger. She twisted around, staring at the two thugs, who suddenly looked very unhappy.

"You didn't tell 'em what really happened, did you?" Jenny crowed, "You’re shamed to say you got beat up by a woman with an umbrella and a maid with a broom!"

Jenny turned back, “The Mistress and me caught ‘em by surprise. There ain’t no other men, never were. These two sneaky cowards made ‘em up. They lied to you about their botched robbery.” Jenny put on a thoughtful look. “The police might be right, you know, most likely your robbers are right in this room, ‘sir’.”

“You little bitch, I”ll…”

“Enough!” The Head Scorpion turned to the well-dressed man. “Does that agree with what you were told by that damn Dawes?”

“Yes. He said his man… Thicket..?”

“Mr Thackeray,” Jenny piped up without thinking, and then flinched away from McPhillips.

“Thackeray, yes, thank-you,” replied the well-dressed man, nodding at her almost politely. “Dawes seemed amused that Thackeray was rescued by two ‘guardian angels;’ the rather unlikely duet of a mistress and maid. I didn’t think he was serious, but this confirms what Dawes said. This girl and her Mistress rescued the ledgers, without realizing what was going on. They were simply stopping a man from being choked to death in front of them. Very surprising but quite commendable! Your men have a very ham-fisted way of going about things; I would have expected more finesse in handling such a matter.”

“Agreed,” said the Head, scowling at the thugs. “It was indeed badly handled.” 

“Since you have been so helpful,” the Head continued to Jenny, “I will answer one of your questions. The ledgers are important because my business has certain… investors. However I suspect that they are cheating me, and the ledgers had entries that may verify their deceit. These two,” he waved at the thugs, “where supposed to relieve your friend of the ledgers on the way back to Sherwin and Soames.” He smiled coldly. “They claim they…‘misunderstood’ their instructions, and attacked early. I am actually pleased you interfered; Dawes was able to confirm that there were a number of suspicious entries.”

“Mr Dawes is a Black Scorpion?” Jenny was shocked.

“I wish that was correct, but no. Director Dawes of the Bank of England is simply very astute at finding false entries, and I wanted him to take a look at the records. He has no idea of the implications of his findings.”

Jenny doubted that the methodical Mr Dawes would see a problem and just leave it alone. She wondered what might be going on out of sight that she and Madame didn’t know about. Well, Mr Dawes would have all the ledgers from the various banks tomorrow, and could have a good look. As long as the Scorpions didn’t find Madame Vastra’s instructions in Jenny’s pocket, that was. If they did then the game was up, and Jenny and Madame were done for.

Not that Jenny’s life was worth a farthing at the moment. 

“Very well.” The Head called out in Chinese, and four Scorpions grabbed the two thugs. “I will question them more closely. If they were not telling the truth about this, then perhaps they are not telling other truths as well.” 

The well-dressed man nodded, and made his way out the door Jenny had been brought in through, leaving the space behind the golden chair empty. 

Jenny started to try and slip away herself, but was grabbed by the collar of her dress. She turned her head, and from the corner of her eye saw the leering face of the Scorpion who'd bought her from her Da. The Head Scorpion nodded at the man, saying something to him in Chinese. The man shook Jenny roughly, almost choking her for a moment, and replied in angry Chinese, then released her. The Head looked at her and said "You have been very useful to us. It is a shame that you are not a boy; you could most likely be trained to be a good lookout. Better than these two fools." He ignored the muffled protests of the thugs. "But since you are only a girl, you can never be a warrior, and will be of far more use paying off your debt to Chang here." He smiled coldly. "Unless perhaps you have three pounds to give him? Repayment of the money he paid to your father for you."

"That's too much! He only gave Da three bottles of Gin! That's twelve shillings at most! Three pounds is five times that!" 

"Consider it interest on the money." He said something to Chang, who leered at her. "Well, do you have it?"

Jenny only had one sovereign with her, the one given to her by Mr Dawes, and a few shillings left over from her errands, in total less than half what was needed. "Three pounds is ten weeks wages for me. The only money I have is a few shillings of my mistress's and I'm not giving him that."

"Then your mistress will never see either her money or her maid again."

"Let's search her. See is she has some more coins hidden away, like. I'll be glad to help!" growled the older thug, struggling against his captors.

Jenny retreated a few steps as the man Chang grabbed for her again, twisting to try to reach her hidden knife. Suddenly, there was a scraping sound as something slid across the floor, and struck Jenny's foot. She glanced down and found a sturdy broom. Jenny snatched it up, and hit Chang in the face with the bristles. He stumbled back, but the bristles broke off, leaving a sharp point. Jenny’s realized that the broom had been cut part way through. She had an ally somewhere near. Instantly she felt better. Her training kicked in, and she stepped back into a guard position. She just might get out of this bloodied but alive!

***

Suddenly there was muffled yelling and hammering beneath their feet, down in the opium den. A two-toned whistle sounded, followed by more whistles. The Police, Jenny realized. They must have followed the notes Madame had sent them. It was a raid!

Jenny fished out her new whistle from around her neck, holding her broomstick tucked between her arm and her body with the point levelled at the Scorpions, blew three blasts, then took a deep breath and blew three more. She hoped to rattle the Scorpions and maybe bring a bit of help. 

There was the sound of pounding feet and more yelling; several Scorpions attempted to flee, but were shoved back into the room as the Police arrived. Half a dozen police constables rushed in, but the Black Scorpions regrouped and began to fight back. In the melee, Jenny brawled with the two thugs and any Scorpion who came within her range, and kept an eye out for the Scorpion who'd bought her as a whore. She wanted to give him a sound thrashing if she had the chance. She also tried to inch her way closer to the Constables, so she'd have more help, but the Thugs kept trying to herd her away from them.

There were more Black Scorpions than there were police, and the slowly the battle started to go against the Constables and Jenny. 

Jenny bashed one man on the head, and caught another in the knee, but she was quickly tiring. A glancing blow from a cosh caught her shoulder, but she recovered in time to block another blow to her head. Just then, Jenny caught a flicker in the shadows behind the golden chair, rather like the swirl of a cloak. She had a sudden surge of hope; maybe Madame Vastra was here. Jenny doubted that she'd want to be seen by the police, as it would give them away as the robbers right quick, but maybe she could lend Jenny a hand!

Jenny carefully planned what she needed to do, and when a lone scorpion stepped close, trying again to smash her head with his cudgel, she blocked the blow, and then shoved him hard, sending him off balance and into the shadows. Normally, he would have recovered quickly, and attacked her again.

Instead, he didn't come back.

'Perfect!' thought Jenny. 'Let's get rid of some more of 'em!'

She tripped the older thug, kicked his arse, and sent him sprawling behind the chair as well. She heard a heavy thump, and could see the man's outstretched arm on the floor. Madame Vastra’d knocked him out cold.

"Excellent!" muttered Jenny.

The young thug was already sprawled at Jenny's feet, nursing a sore stomach and a sore head. The Head of the Scorpions, and Chang the whoremaster were nearby, Chang fighting with a constable who looked familiar, and The Head directing the other Scorpions in Chinese.

"Damn, the police can't understand what he's saying!"

Jenny wished that Madame Vastra could come out of the shadows; maybe she could tell from the way the man was pointing what commands he was giving, and help the police defeat the bastards. Madame’s fighting sense was far better than Jenny’s, and even better than the constables’.

Jenny tried shouting when the Head was, to try to distract the Scorpions, but that didn’t work very well. She wished she had something to make him cough or sneeze. Like maybe some pepper! She glanced quickly around, to see if there was anything she could use. No, nothing. Blast!

Wait a tick! Jenny fished out her whistle again, and started giving it short blasts to try and interrupt the Head Scorpions commands. Blowing it randomly seemed to work, and allowed her to concentrate on defending herself.

One of the scorpions soon became annoyed with Jenny’s tooting and, after delivering a sound blow to the constable he was struggling with, rushed over to attack Jenny. Jenny focused on not getting hit, waiting for the right moment, and when it came, she smacked the man hard across the face with her broomstick, then shoved the stick between his knees as he reeled back and sent him staggering into the shadows behind the chair. There Madame Vastra made short work of him.

Unfortunately this time the Head Scorpion saw the man fall. 

The Head shouted angrily in Chinese and drew a pistol, levelling it at the shadows. Jenny, desperate to protect Madame, threw her hacked-off broomstick in a whirling arc, knocking his arm out of line as he fired. He rounded on Jenny, now levelling the pistol at her, and Jenny was suddenly staring straight down the barrel of the gun. 

"Oh bloody, bloody hell!" raced through Jenny's mind.

There was a sound like the crack of a shot, or a whip, something whistled fast past Jenny’s head and the pistol went flying from the Scorpion’s hand. The Head Scorpions spared it a shocked glance and backed away quickly from the shadows. 

"Very nice," muttered Jenny, glancing behind her. 

"Not really," said the annoyed yet welcome voice of Madame Vastra. "I wanted to take his hand off, not knock away the pistol!"

The Head Scorpion was recovering from his surprise. He looked around quickly, assessing the battle.

Jenny dove for her broomstick, rolling so that the gun was behind her, and to her surprise, came up on one knee with the sharp end of her stick pointed directly at a very vulnerable bit of the Head Scorpions anatomy. He’d started for the gun even as Jenny was moving. Jenny blinked in disbelief, and then grinned wickedly. “Do you think it’s worth three pounds for me not to prick ‘em, dear?” 

The Head Scorpion nimbly leapt backwards, and as he retreated, he quickly plunged his hand into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a short paper cylinder. As he held the tip to one of the gas lights, it suddenly began to spurt a thick, black smoke. He threw it hard at Jenny, but she dropped the butt-end of her broomstick, and batted it away at the Black Scorpions. Everyone including Jenny started to cough. Her eyes watering, Jenny remained guarding the pistol, but the Head Scorpion disappeared into the smoke, and was gone.

“Need to get me one of those!” Jenny was impressed; that _was_ a good trick!

A man separated himself from the recovering police constables and staggered over to Jenny. 

“Good One!. You should be on a cricket team. Pity you’re not a boy.”

Jenny thought she was getting a bit tired of hearing those words. Then she realized that she recognized the man’s voice. She tried to see through the smoke.

“Inspector Abernathy?”

“Yes, Jenny,” said Abernathy, winded and mussed, but clearly very happy. “Well done! That was very quick thinking!” Abernathy looked around at the police constables rounding up the Black Scorpions, and then turned back to Jenny with a frown and a question about the Head Scorpion:

“Who was that Masked Man, anyway?” 

Jenny just rolled her eyes. 

***

After the fighting finally stopped, and the Police managed to count heads and determine who they’d captured, they found that the Head Scorpion, Chang and the two Thugs had all managed to get away. Jenny was fairly sure Madame had gone after the Head Scorpion. She hated that Chang escaped. She was a bit surprised about the thugs, though. They just didn’t seem bright enough to take advantage of the smoke. ‘Guess they’d got lucky,’ she decided. 

***

Vastra considered herself fortunate; she’d been by the Shadwell police station when a hansom cab rushed up, and Abernathy and Palmer jumped out, gibbering to some nearby officers about a young girl kidnapped from Cheapside and the need to raid the Scorpions at once. 'A girl from Cheapside' meant that Jenny was in danger, and Vastra raced for the Head Scorpion’s office above the Opium Den immediately. She was relieved to find Jenny staying calm despite the danger she was in. After the battle, as soon as the smoke began to clear and Vastra saw Abernathy bumbling towards Jenny, she slipped out in pursuit of the Head Scorpion.

Vastra made straight for the Head’s simple flat. No ostentatious chairs here to impress his minions, the few furnishings here were simple, but very different from what she had seen in English homes. Vastra almost regretted tearing the place apart; ripping up flooring and the walls, finding as much as she could of the Ape’s concealed wealth. By the time she was finished, she estimated that despite emptying the flat in the dark, she’d gathered about two thirds of the Ape’s ‘property’; enough to cripple it for now. The flat was not a bank by any means; though there was a great deal of cash, there were many jewels as well, for portable wealth, so Vastra was able to pack up everything and carry it out in one trip. The Head didn’t return while she was there. While she was rather disappointed, Vastra was not surprised. The Ape almost certainly had another lair, somewhere secret to hide until the police finished looking for him. If the timing worked out, he might not even return until it was too late to warn the other senior Scorpions about had happened to his flat. 

***

It was very late that night, or rather very early the next morning, when Jenny finished making her statements to the police and returned to the Gin Palace with Inspector Abernathy and Constable Palmer. They were accompanied by a very relieved Mr Thackeray. Madame Vastra slipped in just minutes after them, and was able to greet them as if she was a very worried ape woman when they returned. 

It turned out that Mrs Brown and the grocer’s boy were to thank for Jenny’s rescue. At Mrs Brown’s command, the boy had raced after the carriage to see which way it turned at the many-road intersection near the Bank of England, and then followed it along to the Bishop’s Gate crossroad. Mrs Brown also sent one of the serving girls to the London Police station nearby, where Constable Palmer was filling out a minor report. He’d left at the run, meeting up with the grocer’s boy, who pointed out the carriage heading east on Leadenhall. Palmer just saw the last of it in the distance. 

Mrs. Brown herself had gone at once to the rear Area, where Abernathy and Thackeray were having a drink. Alerted to the trouble, Abernathy asked a willing Thackeray to collect search warrants issued earlier that day for the Scorpions’ various dens from Scotland Yard. Abernathy then hailed a hansom cab and picked up Constable Palmer. The pair made haste to the police station nearest the Opium Den, and were able to get them to co-operate in staging an immediate raid, as Jenny’s life was likely in danger.

Jenny thanked them all, and the next morning gave the boy a gold sovereign for his trouble, just as Mr Dawes had rewarded her. The boy, George, was delighted with his prize. When Mrs Brown asked her about it, Madame Vastra implied that she’d ‘loaned’ the money to Jenny, as she passed on thank-you gifts to Mrs Brown, Thackeray and the serving girl as well. 

***

When Jenny reported the missing thugs to Madame Vastra later, Madame explained that she’d actually helped the Thugs escape by dragging them outside. She had bigger plans for them. “After all your work to let the Scorpions think those two might be responsible, I didn’t think it wise for them to be locked up until we are done.”

***

Madame Vastra made the final preparations during the day on Tuesday, and then her master plan was ready to implement. Jenny’s carefully carried out list of instructions were only part of a greater scheme, as Madame Vastra prepared to create as much trouble and damage to the Black Scorpions over the next few nights as they could. She’d taken Jenny’s worries seriously though; they’d managed not to kill anyone during the raids so far (Vastra didn’t count the two meals she’d made out of her random attackers in the sewers) and she thought they could get to the end of the week without too much bloody mayhem if she planned things right. 

On Tuesday night they broke their pattern of weekend robberies, and successfully raided the Trafalgar Bank. This time there was no one waiting for them in either the sewers or the vault. Madame Vastra even dealt almost gently with the lone, very surprised, watchman they encountered. 

On Wednesday night they raided Wilmott’s.Bank again, the first bank they’d robbed, and cleaned out the safe deposit boxes belonging to the Scorpions. Under Madame’s direction, Jenny had carefully written down the names and numbers before the ledgers were ‘returned’ to Mr Dawes, so they knew exactly which ones to open. They didn’t bother with the rest of the bank.

Madame Vastra predicted that everyone would now expect them to rob the next mostly likely objective, The Tomes Bank. So it was time to break the pattern again, and make a final attack. She and Jenny spent the day on Thursday quietly watching various locations, and the amount of activity at the houses of the three remaining senior scorpions confirmed Vastra’s suspicions. With the banks proven unsafe, the Scorpions were moving their remaining money into their dwellings, exactly as Madame Vastra anticipated. Madame left Jenny for a few hours late in the afternoon, saying that she had one more spot of bother to deal with.

Jenny wasn’t sure if she should be more excited or scared. Thursday night was the big night! If these powerful toffs had even the least idea of what was going to happen, there would be guards ready for them, and Jenny and Madame Vastra would likely be caught and jailed. If they were lucky. If not, the River Thames would carry an extra body or two come sunrise.

***

All three men lived in lavish houses with a kitchen and servant quarters in the basement for the men and in the attic for the female servants, and coal vaults under the street. Part of Vastra’s preparations during the day on Monday and Tuesday included tunnelling into the coal vaults from the nearby Metropolitan Railway line, under the front Area of each house, and then up under the kitchen, and then putting in small, carefully blocked holes to the main basement. As a result even though the local sewers might be patrolled, Vastra and Jenny would be able to gain entry to the houses. 

Madame Vastra now demonstrated to Jenny her abilities as a scientist. She brewed a sleeping potion (Jenny’s words; Madame Vastra called it ‘preparing a soporific.’ Finally they agreed on ‘sleeping gas.’) Madame said that her people the used original formula against dinosaurs when they were pests! Even diluted for much smaller animals, such as humans, the ‘sleeping gas’ was still very powerful.

On Thursday night, they made their way to the house near Notting Hill Gate that Vastra had chosen as their most important target. Vastra used the sleeping gas to knock out the household staff, a process that didn’t take very long. She modified the masks they wore during their raids, fitting them with goggles and an airtight bag with a special filter to keep out the gas while letting them breathe. Thus protected, Madame was able to go in and take out everything they were looking for. Jenny stayed in the Coal Vault, away from the gas and out of danger in case Vastra hadn’t calculated the strength of the gas correctly. Due to careful planning, well-chose caches, and relatively short distances, they were able to extract their prizes quickly and safely.

Madame Vastra was making a final check of the house, right up to the top floor, when she discovered an unexpected problem. Hatchlings. Three little ones, with an older ape nearby, all asleep from the gas. She wasn’t sure what to do; the gas could kill if too much was breathed too long, so she’d been careful to only use amounts calculated to rendered adults unconscious for a few hours and then dissipate. Vastra had never considered that there might be hatchlings in the houses when she formulated the gas. She headed for the stairs. She needed someone who understood human hatchlings better than she did. She needed Jenny. 

***

A few minutes later, Jenny was in the nursery, checking the little ones. They seemed to be fine; listening with an ear to their chests in turn she could hear good strong heartbeats. She opened the windows wide to let fresh air in, and put a blanket over each of the children, and one over the nurse as well. Luckily, there was a slight breeze which would soon blow the gas away.

On the way downstairs, Jenny kept fiddling with her mask. She didn’t like it, it felt odd and heavy, and smelled strange. She wasn’t sure that it fit quite right either, and was very glad when they were back in the coal vault and she could take it off. 

“What if they wake up too soon?” asked Madame Vastra.

“The children will just think they fell asleep early. The nurse will likely be more worried ‘bout the children than anything else. ‘Sides, if the master’s not home, they won’t think to tell anyone but the Police until it’s too late.”

And with that they hurried off to their second target of the night, a townhouse just two blocks away. 

***

The second house was staffed with more servants than their first target. Vastra was very careful, she needed more gas here, and she wanted to ensure that they reserved a sufficient quantity for their other work. After the sleeping gas was introduced into the building, she waited until enough time had elapsed and then entered.

To her surprise, although the apes on basement and ground floor were asleep, she found a female lying half in and half out of the open back door on the ground floor, likely attempting to escape the vapour. The gentle breeze through the doorway was quickly dissipating the gas. They needed to move fast, as the servants were likely to wake up too soon.

Vastra fetched Jenny from the coal vault, and together they quickly ransacked the house. Jenny possessed a good instinct for where things were likely to be hidden; so much so that Vastra was torn between admiration for the girl's talent, and worry for her own funds. She chided herself for her foolishness; Jenny was always very honest with her about how much she’d spent, though she could be shrewd in dealing with anyone else; and besides, between the two of them they now possessed a considerable sum of Ape treasure. Vastra herself had no idea of the full extent of what it all meant, but Jenny seemed to be convinced that as the ‘adult’ of the pair, the funds belonged to Vastra. At least for now, it seemed wise to Vastra to simply trust that her human wouldn’t rob her.

For her part, Jenny was more bothered by her mask than anything else. Guessing where silly rich folks hid their stuff was easy. They had locks, didn’t they? They chose the obvious places. Behind paintings. in ‘secret’ spots in their desks. Hidden panels in the carved columns. Didn’t need to worry ‘bout the folks next door wandering in at all hours, and ‘borrowing’ things. Only good thing was that her family’s old neighbours in the rundown building had been fair dealers in their own way; what was borrowed was almost always returned, usually in as good or better shape.

When they were finished at the second house, Vastra secured the cache near the University College. She noticed that Jenny stumbled a bit as they walked, and kept yawning. The girl was tiring quickly. Vastra resolved to leave her on watch at the next house to save her strength. 

***

A fine townhouse in Belgravia, Number Eighty-Two Ebury Street, was their final target of the night. Again, the early stages of the robbery were perfect: Vastra introduced the gas through the small spyholes, and after a suitable amount of time passed, she entered the house and started plundering it methodically. She ignored the fine silver plate, the beautiful paintings, and even a truly stunning cut crystal vase, but helped herself to the contents of a large desk including bits and pieces in two concealed drawers, one of which contained a small but fully loaded firearm. There was also a vault concealed behind a portrait of the Queen, which yielded several small gold bricks, securities, bearer notes and a bag with a number of small gems. Vastra took them all.

Suddenly she heard shouting from above. She cautiously ran up the stairs, and found a room filled with smoke and fire! A coughing young ape, wearing trousers, was trying to drag another small ape from the room. The curtains were on fire, Vastra saw a candlestick near them. The small ape wore clothes like Jenny wore for her maid disguise. Vastra darted forward, grabbing the coughing ape by the waist and the other by the collar. She dragged them both into the hallway. Suddenly she heard someone running up the stairs, and turned to find Jenny, mask in place, making the final turn up the stairs from the landing below. “Saw the flames from the coal cellar door below,” she panted out, the sound muffled by her mask.

Jenny sprinted up the stairs, paused at the doorway, and then ran into the smoke-filled room. Vastra swore several of her people’s most colourful curses, and followed the determined little dragon. Jenny was pulling at the curtains, using the bedspread to protect her hands. Vastra reached past her, and with one good heave, dragged them to the floor. Jenny promptly pulled them over to the hearth, balling them up with the bedspread. Vastra suddenly understood: Jenny was trying to smother the flames!

Vastra helped her, pouring water from a nearby pitcher onto the base of the flames, and then stomping on the bedclothes. Just then they heard shouts from outside. Vastra risked a glance out the window, and saw a strange wagon outside, surrounded by shouting men, all looking and pointing at the townhouse. “Who are those men?” she asked Jenny. “They aren’t police.”

“Fire Brigade. Blast! We need to go right now!”

Vastra glanced back at the hearth, where the curtains were still smoking slightly. There was a thunk outside, and Vastra could now see a ladder through the window.

“Fire Brigade’ll take care of the rest. C’mon!”

***

Jenny took a moment in the hallway to check the two young servants, both about her own age. At a guess they were the bootblack and a chamber maid. The boy had collapsed, still holding the girl. Jenny shut the door of the room, to cut off the smoke, and then opened a small window nearby to clear the air. Jenny herself was coughing more and more, and as they ran down the stairs to the cellar, Jenny suddenly stumbled, and pitched head first down the stairs! Luckily she was near the bottom of the flight, and only fell a short distance before Vastra was able to catch her. 

“Can’t run anymore. Too sleepy. Can’t breathe…” Jenny’s head rolled forward and then back as she tried to stay awake. “Leave me, the Fire Brigade’ll think I’m a servant here. I'll slip away later.”

“No. Inspector Abernathy will show up investigating the robberies. Then you’ll be jailed.”

“Can’t carry me an’ th’ loot very far. Too heavy.”

“I’m not leaving you,” growled Madame. “You are of far more worth than mere gold and jewels.”

Jenny felt Madame Vastra picking her up and tossing her over a shoulder. That was the last thing she remembered before she fell asleep.

***

Vastra was elated. They’d done it! Despite the challenges that they’d faced, they’d raided the senior Scorpions, the men the Head Scorpion referred to as his ‘investors.’ They’d robbed all three of them, one after another, in the same night! 

Still, Vastra knew that Jenny had paid a high price. The soporific was formulated for adult apes, and Jenny had been exposed to it several times tonight. Even now, she was deeply asleep, and Vastra kept checking her breathing to make sure that nothing was amiss. 

Worse, Vastra knew that she couldn’t let Jenny sleep late in the morning. Mrs Brown expected the Gin Palace to be cleaned every Friday before noon, so she could let poor Jenny have only a few hours sleep tonight in order to maintain their cover. Vastra resolved to make sure Jenny was up and ready, and to help her with the cleaning, as her human had once again proven herself to be a steadfast little dragon, despite Vastra’s own errors. 

Those two young apes could easily have died tonight; Vastra hadn’t realized that candles were sometimes in the big houses as secondary lighting. The girl was fully dressed, so no doubt she was waiting for the family to come home from some entertainment. She most likely had been in the room relighting the coal gas lamp from the candle, when she’d fallen asleep from Vastra’s sleeping gas. If the young male hadn’t found her and called out, Vastra and Jenny would have caused a death during a robbery. Exactly what Jenny had been trying to avoid.

Well, they were almost done. She knew that Dawes was planning something to deal with the Scorpions and the banks. After that, she’d round up the thugs and deliver them to the police. It was time to call a halt to the war.

***

Friday morning was very busy; several senior bank managers and directors from around London responded to an imperious summons from Mr Dawes and gathered deep within the Bank of England for a very discreet meeting. Unknown to them, also in attendance were a number of plainclothes police officers, disguised as Bank Clerks. 

Dawes was blunt with the assembled men. He revealed the reason that each of their banks had been robbed over the last few months: they’d been targeted solely because the robbers were convinced that those institutions were connected with illegal activity, specifically each bank had ties to the notorious Black Scorpion Tong.

Amid cries of “Rot” and “Nonsense,” someone bellowed out, “Do I look Chinese to you?” to which a confused manager was heard to say “well your complexion is a trifle yel…” followed by the sound of a heavy smack. 

“Enough!” roared the manager of Wilmott’s Bank. “What are we going to do about catching these thieves? They are waltzing in and out of our vaults as if they were made of paper! Without our ledgers and day books, we’re skating on very thin ice. We’re been able to keep this hushed up, but our customers are starting to ask questions. If there is a run on any of our banks…”

“The ledgers and day books are in my office,” stated Dawes. “The robbers apparently decided that the Bank of England is an honest institution, and that its officers could be trusted with the task of returning the ledgers to you. You’ll receive them at the end of this meeting.” Dawes smiled fiercely. “Our clerks, of course, have made excellent copies of your records for the police.” 

“I resent you implication that our institutions are engaged in financial impropriety. Never mind harassing us, have you learned anything that will help the police catch these criminals?” asked one of the men. 

Dawes shook his head. “I’m not sure if you need to catch them or hire them! Their sole focus seems to be on shutting down the Black Scorpion Tong. Your banks were targeted solely because some of your customers are even worse criminals than men who only take money and securities.” Dawes smiled grimly, “You deal with devils, ‘gentlemen’, and you have been properly burned.’

“You’re accusing us of harbouring criminals! I should sue for slander!” exclaimed the Manager of Sherwin and Soames.

“Sue who?” Dawes asked, brutally. He eyed the gathered men, ignoring the police behind them. “Even if you could find them, are you suggesting that you could sue men who not only ran rings around your watchmen, but who have also provided a sheaf of papers to the police documenting WHY you are being targeted? The Papers would have a field day! Besides which, any money they have is most likely stolen from you! Don’t be fools.”

At the mention of evidence on paper, and of the newspapers getting involved, the men quickly fell silent. Of course, no one was so idiotic as to threaten to sue the Bank of England! 

“The answer is simple,” Dawes continued. “Your banks are being used by a criminal gang to hide their illicit gains. If you clear them off your books, the robberies will cease. Fail to clear them off… and your investors and customers will no doubt look elsewhere for better security, and you will join the New Glasgow Bank as a lesson in bank fraud in the nineteenth century!” 

“When I mention this to the Home Secretary at lunch at our club, I suspect you will not be a director at this Bank for long, Dawes!” bellowed a portly man in the back of the room.

Dawes smiled grimly; there was always one fool in every group. “Both Sir William and Mr Gladstone have been consulted, and are agreed that it would be preferable to avoid a run on your banks. It would create havoc in the City. I am empowered to avoid that. I would rather do it with your cooperation. But it will be done. By the end of today, each of you will have your instructions, and the members of the London Police behind you will be happy to ‘assist’ you in carrying them out. Strangely, those instructions focus on ridding yourself of the vermin that have infested your ‘fine institutions.’ We will leave the hunting of the bank robbers to the police.” 

***

The man that some people knew as the Head of the Black Scorpion Tong tugged at the too short sleeves of his jacket. Now dressed as a common Chinese seaman, he blended in with the cooks and labourers that journeyed around the globe filling the most menial of trades, and gathering information, knowledge and funds as they went. His people built railways and subways, fed the high and low aboard the modern steamships and the swift clipper ships; yet still they were despised and belittled by the English barbarians. Yet sometimes the blindness of the ‘Masters of the Seas’ was useful, no one would look twice at ‘just another Chinese.’

_“Do you have any news?”_ he asked the elderly messenger who approached him.

_“Yes. Chang showed up.”_ The Head Scorpions sighed in relief, until the messenger continued, _“He was found in the yard of a slaughterhouse near the river. Most of him. The strange thing was that he had several coins in his mouth.”_

_“Coins?”_

_“Yes. As far as we can tell, he choked on these coins, sir.”_ The man held out three sovereigns.

The Head Scorpion shivered. The powerful Englishmen he’d encountered were little more than thieves, willing to cheat the Chinese of their earnings, but unwilling to bear the risks. The English ‘enforcers’ were so dim-witted that a child could beat them. And most shockingly, the females of this land were so un-natural that they were thought nothing of fighting and defeating men!

Now it also seemed that the rumours among his men of a shadowy demon who protected the spirited young girl might be true, even if the demon was really a man. Three gold sovereigns. Three pounds. It was a blunt message. The Head had set the young girl’s price. And now it was paid. The girl was off-limits, and her protector would kill anyone else who threatened her. As if they were nothing more than an animal. Likely the bastard would keep watch on the girl’s Mistress as well. 

_“Keep them as a reward for your service. Chang won’t need them,”_ and the Head was certainly not going to touch something so cursed.

Enough was enough. He missed real food, and intelligent and civilized people. Despite his losses, he still had far more money than he did when he left his parent’s farm in China. Perhaps it was time to go home. There he could rest. Perhaps some days he’d return to London. The English were fools. Most couldn’t tell one Asian from another, never mind telling Chinese men apart. 

When he returned, no one would remember him. Until it was much too late.

***

On Friday afternoon, there was a surprising development.

“Hsst! You there! Miss!”

Jenny, now mostly recovered from the night before, looked up from the pump. Her eyes swept the small rear Area, trying to find who was calling her. A young man, his cap pulled down almost over his eyes, his head half-hidden between his hunched shoulders, and hiding as much as possible in the meagre shelter of the back fence, waved at her.

“Are any of your police friends nearby? Or some other copper, maybe? Me and me old man, we’d like to surrender into ‘er Majesty’s custody, you see.”

Jenny blinked in surprise, as she realized that it was the young thug! 

“Are you daft? What are you doin’ here?” 

“Just like I said, we want to turn ourselves in. But there’s an awful lot of strange people around the police station up the street. Not sure it’s safe for us. Would you go get your constable and maybe some more coppers to arrest us and take us in? Please?” 

Jenny looked at him for a long moment, then said. “Wait here while I take the water in.” She did so, and then pelted up the inside stairs to tell Madame Vastra what was up. Madame grabbed her cutlass and belt, wrapped it around her waist, then put on her hooded cloak, took up a sturdy old umbrella for show, and followed Jenny downstairs. 

Some sharp questions from Madame to the thugs soon revealed the problem. Apparently Jenny’s rumour making had paid off, and many of the Black Scorpions were convinced that the men had betrayed them. The two males were in desperate fear of what the Scorpions would likely do if they caught them and wanted to turn themselves in to Constable Palmer at London Police Headquarters, where they’d be safer. Walking all the way west to Scotland Yard was out of the question; they were convinced that they wouldn’t survive the trip. Jenny almost felt sorry for the pair. 

Madame Vastra lined them up, Jenny leading the way, then the young man, his father and Madame bringing up the rear. Jenny grabbed a broom, tossed the bristles over her shoulder, and led them up Lawrence Lane, keeping a sharp eye out. The little band then followed Trump Street over to Ironmonger Lane, turned north and after a minute or so cut through a yard to the rear of the police station. It was a rabbit warren of a walk, but took less the ten minutes. They were almost at the station when the young man behind Jenny finally spoke.

“T’aint right, you always threatening men with a broom like you do.” 

“What do you know about it?” growled Jenny. She gripped the broom, ready for trouble.

“T’aint right.” The young man repeated. “Need a proper staff, you do, or maybe a shillelagh would be better. You can’t march around London with a great big stick. And everybody’s staring at the broom. It looks daft.” 

“I’ll give you ‘daft’, you…!”

“Both of you, enough! Jenny, you’re on duty!” Although Vastra noted to herself that young ape had a point; Jenny really should have a more suitable means of defence. 

“Right Ma’am!”

“Blessed Lady, we’ve joined the petticoat army!” muttered the older thug.

***

Eventually, McPhillips and son agreed to plead guilty to assault (against Mr Thackeray) and kidnapping (of Jenny) but always maintained their innocence about the bank robberies. Thackeray and Madame Vastra counselled Inspector Abernathy to go with what he had. The two even identified the Englishman that Jenny saw at the Black Scorpion meeting; he was a Director of Sherwin and Soames Bank. He’d alerted the Head Scorpion to the trouble with the ledgers, but had set up the ‘theft’ to explain to the other senior scorpions why the ledgers were missing for a few days. 

Madame Vastra shook her head when she heard; that over-elaborate nonsense had brought the Black Scorpions down by giving Vastra the opportunity to learn about Ape banking, and to realize that she could attack the Scorpions through their finances. She’d even been able to hunt one ape, through to make the message clear she wasn’t able to eat him. Well, other than a few small bites.

To no one’s surprise (except the two thugs,) the Masked Lady robberies stopped after the men surrendered to the police.

***

Vastra and Jenny took the short route back from the police station, with Jenny yawning several times as they did so. On their return to the flat, Jenny curled up on the bed. Vastra removed her hat and netting, seated herself at the table, and observed. “You must be pleased that those two are off the street. You’ve had a busy week! Given the shock of being kidnapped on Monday, I’m amazed you’ve held up so well.” 

“That was pretty scary. Wasn’t sure I’d get out of that in one piece.” Suddenly, Jenny grinned and sat up. “Mind you, it did have one good point."

"How could you being kidnapped have any benefit?"

"Well, as I said, it was very scary, but all I could think about was the time that I was snatched when I was little."

"What! Who? When was that? I'll kill..."

Jenny turned to her, a slight smile on her face, reached across the small table and gently touched a finger to Vastra’s lips. Vastra was so surprised she immediately fell silent. 

"It was five years ago. I'd just turned eight. Ma and Da took us to a fair here in London as a birthday present. Anne was an infant, and Johnny was awful young. The fair had a juggler, and several people singing, telling stories and reading poetry, and a magician too. They even had a couple of lions. And Da said that there was a really scary monster...."

Madame Vastra flinched. She had an idea that she knew who the "scary monster" was. She recognized the description of her old fair troupe, 'Jago's Monstre Gathering.'

"Was looking at the lions, wondering if they purred when sleepin' in the sunlight like housecats. Ma and Da sort of wandered off, the way adults sometimes do. Next thing I knew a man sidled up to me and offered me a bit of candy if I came with him. Never seen him before, and he was slippery looking, so I said 'no'. But he grabbed my arm, laid a blade on my neck under my collar so folks couldn’t see it, and said if I screamed, he'd slit my throat. Didn't have a much choice. Went with him, but I dragged my heels as much as I could. Didn't want to get away from other people. Seemed like forever, but suddenly there was a hullabaloo and the man was cursing a blue streak. He tried to hurry me along, but he kept looking away, and finally when he did I gave him a good kick in the shin, and got free. Then another man grabbed me, and tossed me to a nearby lady, and went after the bastard. The man who saved me was pretty handy with his fives, I remember that. Gave the bloke a good thrashing, but I don’t think he punched him more than once. Tossed him alot around instead." 

“The lady sat me down and gave me some sweet tea. I was crying a bit, though trying hard not to, so all I remember was that she had pretty eyes and her head was covered by a green scarf. After a bit the man brought my parents to the tent, and told me I was very brave. Turned to thank the lady, but she’d vanished.”

‘Wait a moment,’ thought Vastra. So far as she knew, only once was a little monkey taken from the troupe’s fairground. On her first day there...

“Finally figured out this morning that it wasn’t a scarf that I couldn’t quite see, now was it? It was green skin,” said Jenny. She grinned. "I finally remembered where we met before. That lady was you. Told you the morning after we met that your eyes looked familiar. And awfully pretty."

Vastra realized that the little monkey she and The Doctor had rescued all those years ago was Jenny! Jenny had recognized her on some level as someone ‘safe,’ so she’d never been afraid of the often dangerous lizard woman.

Now all Vastra, lone survivor of her honoured clan of the noble species of Reptilia Sapiens, scientist, warrior, hunter of apes and slayer of the worst criminals in Victorian London could do was make a lost little squeak as the gentle hand of a brave and clever young human girl moved to gently cup her cheek.

“Thank-you, Madame Vastra. For saving me life. All the times you have, and all the times you might yet.”

The gentle warmth of Jenny’s hand was the best thing Vastra had felt since she'd woken up in this living nightmare called London, with her family murdered and her people lost to her forever. From the look in Jenny’s eyes, she could almost believe that there was one person in this time and place who cared for her a little bit and might even defend her.

Even if that person was only a very young ape.

“Going to grab a nap now, I think. Tomorrow’s another day, and Mrs Brown’ll want the Gin Palace cleaned again. Need some food too so I’ll pop over to Billingsgate market for nice fresh fish now that I can safely go past…” Jenny stopped; a strange look on her face.

At the same moment, an alarming thought finally occurred to both Vastra and Jenny: The Black Scorpions were broken. Their leader had fled after being identified to the police, the other senior Scorpions were under the watchful eyes of the police, the middle managers would likely be deported, and few remaining members had retreated to the Limehouse district in East London. It would most likely take years for the Tong to recover. They had much bigger worries than bothering about a young girl who refused to be a whore.

Jenny didn’t need Madame Vastra’s protection anymore. There were friends in her old neighbourhood who could safely take her in. 

There was no longer a reason for Jenny to stay.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s notes: 
> 
> In the first story of “The Dragon’s Heart” series, “Blood on her Hands” (posted March 2, 2013) Jenny says "I’m trying to remember if we’ve met before. Your eyes look familiar somehow.” Jenny was far more intrigued by Vastra than scared. In this chapter where Jenny realizes where she met Vastra finally explains why. The idea was inspired by a romance novel called "Sweet Vixen" by Maggie McIver. In it the heroine, lamed in a carriage accident when she was young, is rescued from robbery by a rogue with familiar eyes. They have several adventures together, and she eventually recognizes his eyes: as a teenager, he’d rescued the injured and crying child and returned her to her family. I thought that having Vastra help rescue Jenny when Jenny was very young and Vastra was a Victorian Silurian Thespian (blame Neil Gaiman for that one) was a fun bit of homage to a little book I’d enjoyed. 
> 
> Most of the sub-plot was written (as notes) when I started drafting the series in December 2012. So you can imagine my cursing when the preview for “The Bells of St. John” appeared on March 23, 2013 with the potential of a similar plot. But the Doctor was looking for Clara, and Vastra was never looking for Jenny. She just got lucky. In the end, I decided to keep sub-plot in the series, as I still liked the idea. 
> 
> The Black Scorpion Tong will regroup and re-appear in “The Talons of Weng-Chiang” a fourth Doctor Who serial first broadcast in 1977. The story refers to “The Palace Theatre” (Built in 1891) and “Little Tich” (active in theatre from 1879 (12) until 1927 (60)) so I would place that story in the early 1890’s, about ten or more years after this story. 
> 
> ‘Coal Vaults’ – Many townhouses built between 1800 and 1900 in Britain had a ‘coal vault’, often under the street pavement. A collier unloaded coal from a cart directly into the coal vault. Coal was dumped down a chute through a ‘coal hole’. This prevented dirty coal sacks from being carried through the house. The coal would then be used for the household fires and stoves.
> 
> Next Story: Jenny confronts a terrifying truth, cleanliness and confession are good for the body and the spirit, and Vastra embarks on a new career.
> 
> And finally:
> 
> If you recognized the reference to Mr. Dawes, Director of the Bank, give yourself tuppence. Although Vastra would probably encourage you to feed the birds instead. She’d like the extra meat.


End file.
